


when stars collide, like you and i

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Body Shaming, Bullying, Chubby Steve Harrington, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Italian Steve Harrington, M/M, Redemption, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Steve Harrington Whump, Steve Harrington is a Band Geek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: When Steve was little, he went to visit his grandma for the summer in New York and came back a little thicker. He stopped playing basketball, took up the trumpet, and became close friends Nancy, Barb, and especially Robin. When he's ten, Steve gets his Mark right over his heart. It's supposed to be lucky, getting a Mark over your heart; it's supposed to mean he'll have the deepest, most loving connection to his soulmate wherever they are in the world. His nonna told him, after he got it, that soulmates are always destined to meet.When Steve is seventeen, in his final year of high school, he meets his.It seems like destiny has a bad sense of humor when his soulmate turns out to be the new king of Hawkins High, and Steve's newest bully, Billy Hargrove.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Robin Buckley/Barbara "Barb" Holland
Comments: 118
Kudos: 314





	1. Nonna Luisa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xWastedIntellectual_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xWastedIntellectual_13/gifts).



> This was written for Deya who has been waiting very patiently for this for a lot longer than they should have been. They requested a story with Chubby Steve and soulmates, but left the soulmates trope up to me. We talked about a few options for the story and settled on this, and I chose a matching symbols-type trope.
> 
> I scrapped the original version because I hated it, took some of the ideas and restarted it for this version, and so here we are. Please excuse any issues with the Italian, as I do not speak it, but if you have any suggestions I am more than happy to take them! "Nonnino" is a diminutive form of "nonno" which is Italian for grandfather. I got really excited about writing Steve's Nonna again; she's a favorite character of mine.

Steve hasn’t been popular since he came back from visiting his nonna over summer break between third and fourth grade.

He had gained enough weight that his face grew rounder, his belly poked out, and his dad groaned about having to buy him a new round of clothes to fit his bigger body. His mom just sighed and shook her head, hands smoothing over her own trim waist and slim figure as she brushed her skirts out. Nonna Luisa had told him that he was a growing boy and needed to eat, had given him dish after delicious, homemade dish of pastas and arancini and meatballs and, his favorite, the tiramisu they tasted better than any Olive Garden could ever hope to reproduce.

But that year was also when his father started to call him stupid, and a disappointment, while his mother hiccupped on the couch next to him with her fourth or fifth glass of red wine in hand. (Steve always wondered how she couldn’t manage to remember to fix dinner some nights, yet never spilled a drop of wine.)

It was when his parents started leaving him alone in the house with money to buy a pizza, or Chinese takeout. It was when he called his nonna in New York and asked her for help with how to do his laundry, because his mom hadn’t been home in a week and he didn’t have any more clean clothes since she forgot to do them last time, too.

But, it was also the year Nonna Luisa moved in with him.

She had arrived the week after, her arms loaded with bags and more still in the taxi in the driveway. Steve’s eyes had bulged at the sight of the one person in his life who he could count on to love him and take care of him, before he snapped out of it and started to help her carry her things up to the guest room like any good grandson would.

Later that night, Nonna had sat with him downstairs at the kitchen table, just like they did back in New York, and told him that she called his mother after he had called her for help with his laundry and they’d had an argument.

“What did you fight about?” Steve had asked, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He couldn’t understand why anyone would fight with Nonna, much less why his mother and Nonna had disagreed about something.

“You, my love,” Nonna told him, voice soft, and reached her hand out to cup his chin. “How they have left you here, all by yourself.”

“Dad said I needed to grow up,” Steve admitted, looking away. He’d have turned away too, if not for the grip on his chin. “Said I needed to learn some responsibility and… and make him proud.”

“This is not the way to teach you responsibility,” came Nonna’s accented voice, a soft, soothing lilt. “You are my big boy, yes, but you are only nine, Stefano.” The little nickname made him smile. He wished his legal name was Stefano with the way his grandmother said it so sweetly. “And so I am here to help you, since your mother and father seem incapable of it.”

Steve winced. He didn’t want to talk about his parents’ _capabilities_. They were plenty capable of taking care of themselves… just not their child.

“It’ll be nice having you here,” he told her instead, giving her a shaky smile. He didn’t want to cry in front of her. “You’ll help teach me things? So I can be responsible?”

“Yes, mio bambino,” she soothed, carding her long fingers through his hair. “I will teach you.”

And she did. She’d taught him some recipes back in New York, but now she actually taught him how to work a stove, how to preheat an oven, how to properly roll out dough and how to shape tortellini and how to stuff agnolotti.

She taught him how to do his laundry, how to iron his nice clothes, what needed to be dry-cleaned and what _dry cleaning_ actually meant; she taught him how to clean the lint from the trap in the dryer, how to measure out bleach, how to sort clothes by color and how to fold them once they were dry.

Steve learned a lot the fall of fourth grade.

Fourth grade also ended up being the year he stopped playing basketball because he got winded so easily, he couldn’t keep up anymore, and the kids at basketball would tease him and poke fun with smirks and glances as they whispered to each other behind their hands like he couldn’t hear them calling him fat and lazy and slow. Slow like he always was in class - last to finish the tests, last to finish the laps.

He told Nonna this when he came home from practice one day, frustrated and angry with the pain he felt, but Nonna still insisted that he have _some_ kind of activity to keep his brain sharp and so he had to choose an instrument to learn how to play. Choosing the trumpet, since it seemed like the least lame of the choices, Steve got lessons after school until he could join band class at school, then just on the weekends, and found that he actually _liked_ it. He was more of a tactile learner; sports had always been his forte, something he could actively do and engage in, and while playing an instrument was not a horizontal shift in skills, with practice, Steve got really good and was enjoying himself, too.

Band class was where everything changed. It was where he met Robin for the first time, found a kindred spirit in her and became best friends. It was where he met Barb, and through Barb met Nancy, and became friends with them, too. The four of them started hanging out after school at their houses, or at the arcade or movie theater on the weekends.

Band class is also where Steve got his Mark.

It happened right in the middle of band class, April giving way to May, and Steve was only a few weeks past his tenth birthday when a searing sensation across the skin of his chest, right over his heart, caused him to hiss out loud from the pain. His hand flew up to cover the spot.

The teacher looked up, a concerned look on his face.

“Steve? Is everything alright?”

“Um, can I go to the nurse please?” Steve forced out, voice strained, as he moved to pack up his trumpet hurriedly and stuffed the sheet into his backpack.

“Yes, yes, uh,” the teacher seemed flustered by Steve’s insistence on going to the nurse. “Uh, is everything okay?”

“My chest just… started hurting,” Steve told him, wincing again as the feeling became impossible to ignore.

“He’s probably having a heart-attack from all the weight,” laughed Brandon from the back of the classroom. Steve shot him a glare.

“Brandon - inappropriate. You can see me after class. Please, Steve, let Robin walk you.”

Robin grabbed her things and stuffed them away as well, slipping out the door of the classroom and into the hallway after Steve.

“Steve, wait up!” Robin called out, hustling up next to him and falling into step next to him as they headed for the nurse. “What’s wrong? What happened? You were fine when we started class.”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, reaching up to rub at his chest and wincing again. He looked down at his shirt and was, at least, happy to see that he wasn’t _bleeding_ or anything like that. “My chest just started to burn and I… it hurts a lot, Robin. What if Brandon’s right and I’m having a heart-attack?”

“Brandon’s an idiot, Steve,” Robin replied matter-of-factly, with an accompanying eye-roll, and it made Steve relax a little, smile a little. “You’re not having a heart-attack or you wouldn’t be able to walk to the nurse at all.”

They got to the nurse and Robin wished him luck, made him promise to text her after school if he got sent home or something.

When he finally peeled off his shirt and looked down, there was a stark black mark on his skin - like a tattoo, but not, in the shape of a male lion with his mouth gaping open on a roar.

“Well, Mr. Harrington, it looks like you got your Mark today,” the nurse said, surprise laced in her tone, and that was clear enough that even Steve could tell that she hadn’t been expecting it. He thought maybe it’d be a bug bite, or a bee sting, or… or something. “Let’s call your parents and see if they want to have the talk with you.”

Steve knew his parents didn’t pick up calls from the school, but Nonna would, and Nonna did in fact want him to come home for the day.

Nonna didn’t have a car because she had lived in New York until moving to Hawkins and never had a car, never needed to drive, didn’t even have a license, but his parents had hired a driver for her. So when Steve slid into the back of the car next to her, she reached over to hold his hand.

“You got your Mark today, I hear,” she started slowly, carefully, and most importantly, she said it kindly. It made Steve’s nerves calm, even in just the slightest. “You know, I got my Mark after I turned fifteen.”

Nonna pulled her sleeve up to show the diamond that had matched the diamond on his nonnino’s forearm in the same place.

Steve remembered when he was very young, maybe four years old, he had crawled into bed next to Nonnino and he’d trace his fingers over the black mark. Nonnino was a lot older than Nonna when they were married, Steve came to learn as he was older, but back then he’d been more focused on how much his Nonnino made him smile, how sweet his raspy laugh sounded.

“Your nonnino, my dear Leo, he got his the day I was born. And when he got his, he did not stop looking for me.” Nonna patted Steve’s hand. “I got mine on the day Leo’s papa died. You see, mio caro, you get your Mark when your soulmate goes through something special. Or… something tragic.” She gave him a sad smile and slid a hand over his hair. “You will find out one day what happened to them. Remember, Stefano, fate has chosen you. Soulmates are _always_ destined to meet.”


	2. The New King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a second chapter, as a treat. (Mostly, I didn't want to leave this in the past and wanted to catch up to the present. Still - enjoy!!)

**_FOUR YEARS LATER_...  
**   


Steve’s senior year is a bit of a drag, all things considered.

Nonna Luisa had bugged him all summer to choose some colleges to apply to, and he had reluctantly applied to some back in New York to appease her, a couple in Chicago which he knew Robin was looking into, then one in California and one in Florida, just for variety. His parents were footing the application fees anyway. Now, pulling into the parking lot with Nancy in the front seat of his BMW, Steve groans and thumps his head gently against the wheel.

“Listen, Steve, don’t even worry about the essay,” Nancy tells him gently, reaching over to grip his hair to keep him from hitting his head again. But she only keeps hold for a moment before his head hits the wheel again and he groans. “I’ll help and Barb will-”

“Barb will what, exactly?” Barb asks from outside the car and Steve doesn’t need to turn towards the window to see her eyebrow raised. He can hear it in her voice. “Continue to be inundated with this dingbat?”

“How you and Robin lasted so long without dating, the world will never know,” Steve mumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes and blowing a strand of hair out of his face. He waves a hand at the door and Barb obligingly steps out of the way as he slides out of the car and into the cool autumn air of Indiana. He pushes his hair out of his face, wishing it were summer again and they could all be back playing in his pool.

“Steve’s stressing about his college essay,” Nancy calls from over the car with a knowing smile curling up the corners of her lips. “I told him that I’d help, and if you had let me _finish_ , I was going to say you can proofread.”

Barb perked up. She’s an aspiring editor and any chance to get her greedy fingers on a manuscript or rough draft is just another step to honing her skills. 

Steve gulps nervously at the thought, but he knows it’s the best idea they’ve got.

If Nancy and Jonathan weren’t utterly meant for each other, Marked and all, Steve might be tempted to date her. ...Again, though he really thinks a seventh-grade romance isn’t a fair comparison to what he could offer now. But he’s seen her mark, and Jonathan’s mark, knows they’re fated to be together. The fact stands that Nancy is beautiful and smart, and he hopes his own can hold a candle to that.

Not that he can hold a candle to anything. Sure, he’s got a good head of hair, and Nonna says his eyes are big and beautiful, like his nonnino’s, and he’s actually really good at playing the trumpet. But he’s still on the chubby side of a “normal” body type, thicker than even how Tommy is these days. Steve babysits on the weekends, and takes Nonna on her errands after school. He plays board games and card games with his friends and goes for short walks in the woods. It’s probably a good thing he hasn’t met his soulmate yet, given everything that he is. Geeky and fat and boring.

He hasn’t even been to a party in all his years in high school.

“Okay, I’m in,” Barb chirps, a smug smile spreading over her face, and Steve groans and pulls his bag from the backseat.

“Great, my biggest work yet and it’s gonna get absolutely shredded,” he comments, but he’s grinning because even though writing is his worst skill, his friends always make him feel better. If nothing else, he knows his essay will be stellar. “Where’s Robin?”

“Little bird had to see Mrs. Jason this morning to talk about marching band,” comes Barb’s reply from where she’s leaned on the hood of the car. Nancy has joined her there.

“Be glad Nonna isn’t here to see you sitting on the car,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder, then laughs when both of them sit up and glance around like his grandmother is about to pop out from somewhere to scold them.

It’s then that a car pulls into the parking lot blaring metal music. All three of them look up and see a blue Camaro, a new car - maybe a new student? - peeling in. Whoever is driving is making a scene and showing off before school. Couldn’t be Tommy, even though he was bragging last week that his dad was talking about getting him a new car. And it’s too ostentatious for Carol to be driving. Maybe Chad?

But then the person parks and slips out of the passenger seat and no, no that’s definitely a new student. Steve can’t stop staring. This guy has a bit of a tan, more than anyone gets in an Indiana summer. His blonde hair is cropped on the sides and along the back, but grows in soft curls atop his head. He’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, sleeves rolled a couple times, and a pair of tight blue jeans.

It’s been a couple years now that he’s known he likes boys and girls and, really, whoever has a good personality and a nice smile. And Steve knows that this boy, whoever he is, is trouble. He looks _so good_ , and that means he’s going to be at the top of the pecking order, maybe will dethrone Tommy from his spot as king of the school. When Steve glances around, he sees everyone else looking at the new kid too, including Barb and Nancy, and when he looks back, he sees the guy looking at everyone looking at him, and even at this distance Steve can see the satisfied smile curving his lips.

“Great, another Chad,” Steve says, even though he’s still looking. “How long do you think it’ll take for Tommy to start following him around like a puppy?”

“A week,” Nancy bets with a wide smile on her face.

“Psh, three days tops,” Barb wagers.

“I’m betting by the end of the day, this kid is going to rule the school,” Steve tosses out, locking up the car and then waving to the two girls on the hood. “Now get off my car!”

+

Steve is the closest to the mark, as Billy’s already at Tommy’s table at lunch with a small crowd around him, everyone hanging off his every word. Slumping into the seat next to Robin, he goes to open his lunchbox.

“Did you see the new kid?” Robin asks, biting into her usual peanut-butter and banana sandwich.

“Yep.” Steve smiles when he sees the lasagna in a container. He already knows how lame he is that his nonna still makes his lunch, but to him it’s really nice to still have someone take care of him, even a little. Besides, it’s the lasagna _he_ made, and he thinks it turned out really well. Nonna Luisa thought so. “This morning while you were with Mrs. Jason.”

“I’m out of marching band,” Robin says miserably, shoving the rest of her sandwich into her mouth.

“Next time, don’t deck Henry, just call him names back,” he says with a shrug. “You’re lucky you didn’t get suspended.”

“Because my mom would sue the school,” Robin mumbles around the food in her mouth, and Steve scrunches his face up from a smile, disgusted and amused all at once. She chews and swallows then downs half a carton of milk. “For him using hate language. No one gets to call me let alone my girlfriend a dyke. But he got taken off the line up for marching band too, so it’s a win-win for me.”

Steve waved to Nancy and Barb across the cafeteria, coming over with their trays from the lunchline. It’s not that Steve didn’t like school lunch, but how could you want school pizza when you could have home-cooked food from your grandmother? The choice is obvious.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve tells Robin, heading for the student lounge off of the cafeteria so he can heat up his food.

Popping his food into the microwave, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and thinks about the piece he’s been working on with Mrs. Jason’s help. While Steve doesn’t know which college he wants to go to, he knows he wants to stay in music. It’s one of the few things he’s good at in school, and it’s one of the few things he doesn’t get confused about. It’s not like writing or reading, where the words start to blur together and words seem to jump around in the sentence. It’s not like math where the numbers are intimidating and make no sense. It’s not like history with its endless dates to memorize, war after bloody war with all these details that Steve can’t recall on tests. And it’s not like science, where words and numbers collide into a big mess. Steve knows he’s going to need a tutor once he goes to college, hopes Nonna will help him find a good one wherever he ends up going.

He turns around when he senses someone else coming into the room and it’s none-other than the new kid. Steve averts his eyes and makes himself smaller, not wanting to draw any negative attention to himself. Maybe that makes him more of a target, because he sees the kid’s eyes narrow in on him from the corner of his own eyes.

“I need the microwave,” the new kid says.

“I got ten seconds left, man,” Steve tells him, pointing to the countdown.

“I said, I need the microwave,” he states again, and Steve can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Five seconds,” Steve corrects himself, standing forward and moving to open the microwave early. “But there you go, your highness.”

“Don’t cop an attitude with me, fatty,” the kid spits out, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

“Don’t call me fat,” Steve immediately says, hurt lancing through him. It’s nothing new, hearing someone talk down to him because of his size, but this kid doesn’t even _know_ him, but it’s the first thing he notices about Steve and that hurts. “Microwave is yours, jerk. Have at it.”

“What, did your mom make your lunch?” the kid coos condescendingly, reaching out and pulling the container from Steve’s hands. “Mm. Lasagna.”

Steve glances up when he sees other students filling the doorway of the lounge. Tommy leans against the door jam with a smug smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

“No, she didn’t,” Steve contradicts, going to take the container back, but Billy keeps it out of his reach.

“You’re telling me your mom didn’t cook this?” the kid laughs. “Nah, I think you’re lying.”

“His mom isn’t around, Billy,” Tommy jeers from the side. “It’s his _grandma_.”

Steve doesn’t bother correcting either of them, knows if he says, _”No, it’s my lasagna,”_ he’ll only get a different brand of bullying.

“Ohhh, _grandma’s lasagna_. Nice, real nice. Looks really good,” the kid, Billy apparently, says. He grins and takes a deep sniff. “Smells good, too. Leftovers from the casserole she dropped off last night?” Steve is silent, and when he flicks a glance over Billy’s shoulder and sees Tommy’s smile falter, just a little, at the mention of Steve’s grandmother, because Nonna Luisa had made so many meals for Tommy’s family when his mom got sick a few years ago. Billy moves to the side, holding the plastic tupperware over the trash can. It’s third lunch, which means it’s halfway full of all sorts of foods and other things, and Steve’s stomach turns. “I think the trash can is _real_ hungry, don’t you?”

“C’mon, man, why?” Steve sighs, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Just let me take my food and eat in peace. It was five seconds-”

“Because you need to learn about respect,” Billy cuts him off in clipped words, then upends the container right over the trash can.

Steve watches miserably as it slides out and into the black plastic bag, feeling sucker-punched by the laughter tittering from the doorway with said misery on display for everyone watching. Billy shoves the container into Steve’s chest, sauce-side first, so it stains the fabric. He looks down at his shirt and grimaces.

“Next time, when I say move, you fucking move,” Billy tells him, and shoves him hard enough that Steve falls against the condiment table and knocks over some of the things. More laughter comes from the doorway. Billy doesn’t laugh, doesn’t do anything but stare Steve down with hateful eyes. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. Next time, that pretty round face will get to say hello to my fist.”

Steve clenches his jaw, cheeks aflame, and grabs some paper-towels before he slides out of the lounge with everyone snickering around him. Once he’s out of the room, the whole group behind him bursts into raucous laughter and Steve’s jaw feels clenched so hard that his teeth might break from it. He skirts around the edge of the cafeteria towards the bathrooms, doesn’t make eye contact with anyone - keeps his dark eyes cast downward, in fact - and sets the tupperware down on the sink to try to work some of the stains out of his shirt.

His eyes might sting a little, but he won’t give _anyone_ the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please think about leaving a kudo and/or a comment if you enjoyed!! 
> 
> Right now, I have projected about 10 chapters in the making but there may be one or two more. Keep your eyes out for the updates and consider subscribing to the story!


	3. Steve Harrington’s Babysitting Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took FOREVER, and I am so sorry for that. I try to complete a chapter out just in case and it took me longer to write chapter 4 than I expected. I have most of this fic plotted but I still need to work out the details of the very end, so it might take some time to complete it all.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Steve steers wide and clear of Billy Hargrove from then on out, unsurprisingly.

It’s not too hard, though.

Billy plays sports; Steve is in band. Billy, for some reason, is in the advanced classes with Nancy and Robin and Barb; Steve is in the normal classes, borderline remedial, with Tommy and Carol and Tina. Billy is popular, always has a crowd surrounding him, goes to all the parties on the weekends; Steve is a chubby band-geek who lives with his grandma and plays board games on the weekends with the kids he babysits. 

There are still moments in the hallway where Billy will knock his books and papers out of his hands, or will shoulder-check him against a wall of lockers. Nothing overly violent, nothing as humiliating as the scene in the student lounge.

But all of it is enough for Steve to tell Nonna about it when they go grocery shopping and he’s moping in the produce section. Nonna is picking out the best-looking tomatoes with reluctance etched into every line of her face. They’ve run out of the ones she grows out back since the cold set in. After he finishes telling the story about lunch, Nonna harrumphs and gathers up ingredients to make tiramisu, Steve’s favorite, and she stops packing him food that needs to be heated up.

One weekend in October while he’s babysitting, the kids spill into his foyer in their usual fashion - loud, cackling, too many bodies and too much noise - but with a special addition. There’s a girl amongst his usual charges, a girl Steve’s never met before.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Steve says loudly, clapping his hands to get them all to shut up and pay attention. He points to the redhead in the group. “Who is this?”

“I’m Max,” she proclaims haughtily, chin raised high.

Steve shoots a look at his favorite - Dustin Henderson, practically his younger brother with how often they hang out, because Dustin’s mom Claudia is Nonna Luisa’s best friend - but Dustin just shrugs. He has a semi-guilty look on his face, though, so Steve is appeased _a little bit_.

“Cool, and I’m the babysitter, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t agree to watch you. Do your parents even know you’re here?”

“Do yours know you have a bunch of little kids over?” Max snarks, and the Party winces. Steve’s parents are still a sore subject.

“No, because they’re too busy running around the world to take care of their kid, but thankfully my nonna is knitting in the living room,” Steve shoots back just as snarkily. Max’s smirk turns sour and Steve takes a little pleasure in it. “Nonna has been best friends with Dustin’s mom for a few years now. I’m best friends with Mike’s older sister and friends with Will’s older brother. I… wait for it… _babysit_.”

“What the hell is a nonna? And don’t call me a baby,” Max snaps, nose in the air. “Maybe you can talk to these other dweebs like they’re in diapers, but you won’t talk to me like-”

Nonna chooses that time to bustle in, making a big deal of saying hello to the boys who all smile and let her fuss over them. Max looks unimpressed with each of them at the display, mouth dropping open and eyebrow arching. The look is so familiar but Steve can’t exactly place it.

But Steve only smirks because _no one_ is immune to Nonna Luisa’s charm.

“Oh, hello,” Nonna greets her with a wide smile.

“Uh, hi?” Max replies, looking more and more confused.

“What’s your name, mia cara?”

“Max…”

“Well, Max,” Nonna starts, raising her own eyebrow. She puts her hands on her wide hips and takes the stance and tone that brooks no arguments. “I am Nonna Luisa, and if you expect to stay here today with your friends, or ever come back again, you will call your mother and tell her where you are.” She nods her head once. “And I will speak with her after.”

“Yes ma’am,” Max almost immediately replies, then looks a bit stunned with her own reaction.

Yeah, Nonna has that effect on people. Steve’s so proud to call her his grandmother.

After the phone call is through, Nonna has secured yet another child for his babysitting gig.

“Miss Susan says she’s sending Max’s brother to come get her this evening before dinner. And of course I insisted that Max get sent home with something for them. They’re new in town, you know. Just moved here.”

The words ping something in Steve’s brain but he doesn’t make the connection.

It doesn’t matter then, because Nonna has won yet another two hearts in Miss Max Mayfield and her mother Susan - _everyone_ loves his nonna.

Steve lets the whole Party follow him into the kitchen to watch him make his famous homemade lasagna. He and Nonna bought extra this time in preparation to send home with everyone’s families. With another mouth to feed, Steve knows Nonna will make something else for them to eat tonight and the lasagna that had been destined for them will go home with Max instead.

“Why do you cook?” Max asks, cocking her head to the side. “Shouldn’t Nonna Luisa be doing this?”

“Not in my house,” Steve laughs, kneading the dough for the pasta he’ll roll out soon. “Nonna taught me everything she knows.” He pauses. “Well, most of what she knows. She still won’t tell me the blend of her spices for the sauce. But, it’s important to have life skills, no matter who you are or what your gender is or how old you are.” He grabs a rolling pin and starts flattening the dough to run through the pasta roller. “Nonna taught me how to cook, how to do laundry, how to clean, and she even taught me how to change the oil in my car.” Max’s mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, her pale blue eyes wide to match. “She thinks it’s important for everyone to know the basics of how to take care of themselves. When she moved in, she promised to teach me to be responsible and she really did.”

“Nonna is amazing,” Lucas chimes in, smiling as he bites into one of Nonna’s perfect chocolate chip cookies. “She taught me how to change a light bulb.”

“She taught my mom how to fix our sink!” Dustin says, swooping in for a cookie too.

Will and Mike grab a cookie each and then Max reaches for one hesitantly.

“Your grandma can do all that?” she asks.

Steve nods. “She lived by herself in New York City and her landlord always tried to take maintenance out of her security deposit, so she learned to make the necessary changes herself. If you’re lucky, she’ll teach you how to do something.”

He sends her a wink and Max gives him a small smile in return before taking a big bite of the cookie.

Later, in the living room with Nonna Luisa, they sit down to watch one of her favorite old movies, a black and white film about soulmates in the time of World War II. When the soulmates reveal the Marks on their arms, Will tells Max, “Nonna has a Mark.”

“Really?” She turns to the old woman and cocks her head to the side curiously.

Nonna Luisa smiles and rolls up her sleeve, showing off the cut-jewel shape outlined in black on her inner forearm. Max nods in understanding.

“My brother has one too, right over his heart,” Max says, tapping the left side of her chest.

“That’s where Steve’s is, too!” Dustin says excitedly. “He never shows it off but I saw it over the summer when we came over to swim-”

“You have a pool?!” Max asks, mouth dropping open before an excited grub spreads across her face. “Dude, that’s so cool!”

“And it’s heated,” Lucas adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Sometimes we come over during the fall and we can still go swimming, even when it’s chilly out.”

Steve groans because he was _not_ expecting his pool to be some sort of bargaining chip. Now he’s sure that next weekend will end up being full of splashing and raucous laughter out back and wet feet tracking puddles through the house. 

“Steve, Steve, can we go swimming next weekend?” Will asks him, leveling him with his best puppy dog eyes. He knows that _the Party knows_ that Steve is weakest to Will’s puppy dog eyes because Will is such a sweet, soft-spoken kid who doesn’t ask for much. Steve’s sure he can stay steadfast in his convictions until Will adds on, “Please?”

And so Steve crumbles with a long-suffering sigh met with joyous whooping from the kids.

+

In the early evening, just when the sun is starting to go down, someone rings the doorbell.

Steve assumes that it’s Jonathan to pick up Will, or Nancy to pick up Mike, or Miss Claudia to pick up Dustin and Lucas. So he pads through the house and to the front door, unlocking it and swinging the door open with a smile on his face, only to have it immediately fall when he sees who exactly is standing there.

The last person he expects on his doorstep is King of Hawkins, Billy Hargrove, and yet… there he is, in his usual tight jeans and tight shirt and even the leather jacket that’s started making an appearance now that the weather has grown colder.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” Billy drawls from the front porch.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve replies. “Don’t cream your pants.”

“I’m looking for my sister,” Billy says, plucking a cigarette from a pack and sticking the butt of it in his mouth. “A little birdie told me she was here.”

“A little birdie being your mom?” Steve rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder, but his eyes flit back when he hears a mirthless laugh fall from Billy’s lips.

“Are you giving me attitude again, Harrington?” he asks, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. His tongue flicks out over his teeth as he smiles, smoke leaking from between his lips, and god, Steve _hates_ that smile, hates how smug it is. Hates how the cloud of smoke Billy blows out goes right into his face, and Steve winces and looks away. “Do I need to teach you another lesson?”

“You’re going to teach me a lesson at my own house,” Steve repeats, raising a single eyebrow.

“And why the hell is my little sister at your house, Harrington? Susan said she was with a babysitter and a grandma. The fuck are you doing with my sister?”

Billy reaches out to shove at Steve’s chest. Steve’s nostrils flare in annoyance, and in slight pain, from the hit.

“Babysitting,” Steve says slowly, like Billy is dumb.

“If you did something weird to sister, Harrington, I swear I’ll-”

“Who keeps you so long, mio caro?” Nonna asks, bustling up to the open front door and peering around Steve’s shoulder.

“Who’re you?” Billy asks, confused, with the cigarette hanging precariously from his lips.

Steve glares at Billy, face going hard as stone. “This is my nonna. Nonna, this…” He looks Billy up and down. “...is Billy Hargrove.”

Nonna sizes him up, much the same as Steve just did, but her look is heavy, intense, weighing Billy’s worth. It’s intimidating. “This is the boy who threw your lasagna in the trash?”

“Yep.”

Nonna narrows her eyes. “The one who said I make _casseroles_?” 

Steve’s lips twitch, trying to keep back a smirk of his own. “That’s him.” 

Nonna sticks her finger out at Billy and pokes him in the middle of the chest. “You have never tasted my food, so never insult me again calling it a _casserole_.” She says it like it’s a disgusting thing, and knowing Nonna, she probably does think casseroles are disgusting. Then she pokes Billy in the chest again, making the teen flinch in surprise. “And you leave my Stefano alone.” Then she waves her hand around vaguely, Billy’s eyes following it trepidatiously, like he’s expecting it to hit him. “Now wait here and I will get your sister.”

Billy scoffs and tells her, “She’s not really my sister,” but he’s calling it out to Nonna’s back as she walks back into the house and into the living room where all the kids are giggling and shouting about something on the TV. Billy looks to Steve and levels a finger at Steve as if trying to make some sort of point. “She’s _not_ my _sister_.”

“Sure,” Steve says, eyebrows raising up in a look that displayed just how much he believed Billy’s words: not at all. He raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, man.”

“Shut your mouth, Harrington,” Billy says, taking an intimidating step towards Steve.

At school, he’d have flinched. On his own turf, Steve just crosses his arms over his chest. Billy seems surprised by this but Steve just gives him a tight smile and looks beyond him when Jonathan Byers pulls up in the driveway next to Billy’s Camaro.

Steve raises a hand in greeting and then calls over his shoulder, “Will! Your brother’s here!” Turning back, he sees Billy looking back and forth between the door and Jonathan, growing more confused with every passing moment. The kids are shrieking in the kitchen, saying their goodbyes.

By the time Jonathan walks up to the door, Max and Will are rushing outside with their arms loaded. “Woah, is that… is that your lasagna, Steve?” Jonathan asks, then his eyes go wide. “And Nonna made garlic bread too? Hell yeah!”

Will passes the foil pan into Jonathan’s hands. “She made it earlier today but said she put extra garlic on ours,” he says, his smile as excited as Jonathan’s. “See you next weekend, Steve!”

“Bye, Steve,” Jonathan calls out, raising the pan. “Thanks for the lasagna. Are you coming by Barb’s later?”

“Of course,” Steve replies, and cocks his head to the side with a little smile on his face. “After dinner.”

“Cool. See you later, man!” Jonathan calls out, heading back to his car.

Max has a pan covered in foil in her arms. “Billy, Steve made lasagna for us to eat tonight! Mom was so excited when she heard!”

“Steve made lasagna?” Billy asks, and he looks so confused that Steve has to turn around and grab the door, ready to shut them out. “Who the fuck are you, Harrington?”

“No one you know,” Steve says. “Ask your mom about next weekend, Max.”

“What’s next weekend?” Billy’s questions continue to go unanswered as Max snorts in response and Steve closes the front door.

His hand is shaking a little, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases some with the roar of the Camaro driving away from Loch Nora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any predictions on what’ll happen next chapter?
> 
> Please consider leaving a comment or a kudo to encourage me to continue this lil story!


	4. Tina’s Halloween Bash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going through some personal stuff right now so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to update with the next chapter. So, I wanted to post this and make sure it was out there.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Stop running, mio bambino!” Nonna calls out from the sliding glass door. She steps out onto deck with a tray full of snacks, and Steve follows her out with another tray.

“Sorry Nonna!” Dustin falls out, immediately slowing down only for Mike to run into him from behind and they both go tumbling into the heated water. They’re a mess of splashing and flailing limbs, everyone devolving into laughter when they both bob up to the surface spluttering.

Part of him is convinced that Nonna gets him more kids to babysit so she has more people to feed. He gets to be her taste-tester, so Steve knows better than to complain about extra dishes. Another part of him wonders if Nonna does it so that the house is livelier, being full of kids and noise and laughter; it’s a positive thing for both of them.

Setting the platter down on the table, Steve takes a look out onto his backyard and thinks about when Nonna first came to stay with him. He thinks about how empty and lonely the house was. How he felt invisible to everyone around him - his parents, of course, but also his teachers at school, and the kids in his classes, and his coach in basketball. No one saw how much he struggled, not until his nonna came to the rescue.

His gaggle of kids are there, of course, all five of them including Max, who gets dropped off by Susan. She’s sweet, if a little quiet, and Nonna manages to get her life story in one meeting. Susan had married young, had Max when she was young, divorced Max’s father, met her current husband, Neil Hargrove, about six years ago and they were married two years later. Neil’s actually outside when she comes to pick up Max, and when Steve glances outside, he sees the man looming in the truck. Like father, like son, Steve guesses, though Steve is nothing like his father.

Not much like his mother, either.

Susan likes Steve, though, and Susan _loves_ Nonna Luisa as much as Max does, so Steve thinks she must be okay.

Barb and Robin are at the far end, with Barb sticking her feet in and Robin leaning on the side next to her. Nancy and Jonathan are sitting in chairs, engaging Barb and Robin in conversation.

“I don’t see how _you’re_ getting paid when my sister is here,” Mike calls out as Steve heads over to meet with his friends, and Steve snorts.

“Because if you start drowning, _Steve_ has to save you,” Nancy teases, throwing a towel at Mike’s head.

“Honorary lifeguard,” Steve laughs in agreement, sitting down next to Barb to keep his feet in the pool.

After food and more laughter and some time spent warming up better indoors with a movie on, six o’clock comes and right on time, the bell rings. Steve goes to answer, thinking it’s probably Lucas’s mom  
since she’s always punctual, or maybe Miss Claudia coming to see his Nonna for a couple hours. But when Steve opens the door, he’s getting a repeat of last weekend with Billy Hargrove on his door step.

“Harrington,” Billy nods stiffly, biting at his lower lip. “My sister ready to go home?”

Billy looks… kind of primped up. Curls tamed, a splash of cologne, tight jeans and a shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose his chest _just enough_ to make Steve want to scoff.

“You got a hot date or something, Hargrove?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow, before he calls over his shoulder, “Max, your brother is here!”

“Stepbrother,” Billy hisses to correct him, and Steve just raises his other eyebrow to give Billy a look. “Whatever, man. You’re a wimp.”

“And I bet you ate seconds of my lasagna,” Steve shoots back.

Billy gives him the finger in response, but Steve just rolls his eyes and tries not to stare at the hint of black beneath the edge of Billy’s shirt. (Everyone looks at Marks if they’re visible - it’s not exactly _polite_ , but it’s hard to avoid the fascination.) Of course Billy Hargrove is lucky enough to have a tattoo on his chest. Steve bets his match is some cool chick from Hawaii or like, the Caribbean or somewhere tropical and sunny with beaches. Probably has something equally tropical as his symbol, like a sea turtle or a palm tree, or even something as simple as a wave.

Steve wants to rub his Mark, seeing the edge of Billy’s, wants to know where his soulmate is in the world. Wants to know if they’re thinking of him, too. He moves his hand but then Max is coming down the hallway.

“Ugh, Billy, you smell,” Max comments after she pushes out of the door next to Steve, a backpack with her things over her shoulders and a bakeable pizza for the Hargrove house in her hands along with a plastic-wrapped bowl of salad. “You going out with Daisy tonight?”

“Her name is Lacey.”

“Her name is Grace, actually,” Steve comments, but looks away and back inside when dual blue-eyed glares get thrown in his direction. Steve shakes his head. Grace is actually really nice and he thinks she could do a lot better than Billy Hargrove, but... “Whatever. Enjoy the pizza.”

He tries not to slam the door behind them. It’s a near-thing, though.

Other than that, things stay the same in babysitting; he and Nonna just make extra food on Saturdays. 

Steve ropes the kids into helping assemble the dishes because there are so many mouths to feed. Lucas is good with kneading the dough, so he helps Steve with the pasta and Nonna with bread making or pizza. Max is good with portioning; she gets to fill the stuffed pastas, like the cappelletti or agnolotti or even the manicotti, and roll the balls of arancini. Mike and Will get put on sealing duty, and Will is a much more effective sealer than Mike; his crimping is almost as good as Steve’s, especially with the mezzaluna. Dustin, for as much time as he’s spent around Steve and Nonna Luisa, can’t cook to save his life and gets regulated to stirring duty on sauces and risotto.

Steve falls back into a good rhythm between babysitting and school and band practice, and doesn’t have to worry about Billy after those first couple of times because Billy starts texting Max when he arrives instead of coming to the door. It’s only a couple weekends later, at the end of October, that the rumor starts about a costume party. Soon enough, flyers for _Tina’s Halloween Bash_ start circulating around the school. 

Even though Steve is certain that he’ll never get an invite to go, apparently one of Robin’s and Barb’s friends in marching band is friends with Tina, _somehow_ , and Steve and Nancy get invited alongside them. It’s everything Steve’s been waiting for in high school and while Jonathan has to cover some event that evening for the paper, Barb promised to pick them all up and they were all going to crash at Steve’s house.

It’s everything he dreamed of for his high school experience. He’s not so certain of his ability to get into college on a music scholarship, so this might be his only chance to really go to a party. To get drunk in a public way, to be around other people his age, to let loose for once in his life.

He’d even told Nonna about it, completely unable to lie to her.

“You call me if you need me, Stefano,” she told him, smiling knowingly and patting his cheek. “But otherwise have fun and be quiet when you come back in.”

They’d all chosen different ‘80s movies to emulate - Robin convinced Barb to go for Breakfast Club looks, with Barb as Claire and Robin as Allison; Nancy was doing her own version of Star from the Lost Boys to Steve’s Michael, and Steve even buys the perfect leather jacket and a pair of Ray-Bans to complete his look. It’s easy, given that he just needs a white t-shirt and a fitted pair of jeans and some sneakers, and it’s comfortable. Nancy looks really pretty in her swishy skirts and lacy top and a scarf draped over her shoulders. Barb offers to play the designated driver and Steve isn’t about to pass that up, not when he ends up being the responsible mom-friend in any given situation.

When they pull up to Tina’s house, there are cars already parked everywhere. Cars in the street, cars on the lawn, in the driveway, there’s even one parked under a tree at the property line that’s rocking in a very telling way. When Steve looks over at Nancy and waggles his eyebrows, they both burst into laughter.

They walk into the party, Steve a little hesitantly and casting eyes around to make sure no one’s about to pop out and call him out for being somewhere he doesn’t belong.

He’s not popular, he’s not a partier, but he wants this night so badly to go well.

And, surprisingly, it does. He and Nancy get cups full of punch, dance in the makeshift space set up in the living room, and Steve is loose and happy. He catches sight of Barb and Robin across the room, leaning together so close, Robin’s hand on Barb’s hip, and he’s happy that they’re happy. That’s important to him.

He’s all smiles until Billy Hargrove comes inside, whooping and hollering about a new keg stand record. 

Their eyes meet across the room and Steve fees his stomach drop at the telling smirk, but for once he doesn’t want to run away. It’s probably the alcohol giving him confidence but he’s ready to meet his bully headlong for whatever confrontation Billy’s planning. Billy’s covered in sweat or spit or beer, tan chest gleaming from beneath a leather jacket, but then he notices the edge of black over Billy’s heart. Billy takes a hit from a joint and his jacket opens just enough for Steve to see it.

Billy’s Mark, the edge of black he didn’t get to see much of even that one time he’d glimpsed it. Now, with his bare chest glistening with sweat and beer and on display for the entire house to see, Billy looks cocky and confident with his Mark out.

A Mark that matches the one on his own chest beneath the white fabric of his shirt.

It’s like time stands still as he inhales shakily, the breath shuddering through his chest, and he can’t take his eyes off of it. Flicking his gaze up to Billy’s face, he can see a malicious glint as he’d caught Steve looking at his Mark. He even flexes his chest a little to make it pop.

Like he’s as proud of his Mark as Steve is reverent of his own.

The bubble of the moment pops, sound rushing back to his ears, Steve takes another breath and turns around. He can’t handle this, can’t meet Billy’s barbs with banter here in the face of such a revelation. He leaves the room, stumbling and feeling along the wall until he leaves the house. Leaves the party completely, on wobbly legs until he finally gets to Barb’s car. He flops next to it and leans back to stare up at the sky. His head is a swirl of confusion and dismay. The ringing in his ears blocks out the background noise of the party.

His soulmate is… Billy? Billy, who treats him like shit, who takes different girls out to Lover’s Lake every weekend? The straightest of straight and meanest of mean at Hawkins High?

 _Billy Hargrove_ is supposed to be his perfect match?

There must be some sort of mistake. The universe must be playing a joke on him. First with his parents, now with his soulmate. He should have expected that this person he built up in his brain as a sort of haven, a sort of salvation, would be the bane of his existence. A complete devastation, because deep down, Steve knows that he doesn’t deserve good things, that he-

“Steve?”

He looks up, tears in his eyes, hands in his hair, to find Robin looking at him with worry clear on her face. Steve bites his lip and she sits down next to him. She was there when he got his Mark. She’s been there by his side every day since, really. They’re best friends and sometimes Steve is convinced that she knows his head better than he does.

“You okay?” Robin asks in a soft voice, reaching out to pull his hands away from his hair. He’d been tugging at it and some strands come away on his fingers when Robin successfully gets his hands in his lap instead. Not clumps, thankfully, just a few pieces he’s managed to tug out.

He inhales slowly, lets it out equally slowly through his nose, and when he can’t manage words, Steve just shakes his head. No, he’s not okay. Not at all.

There’s a long silence between them. Steve can hear jeers from Tina’s place, his ears working once more, and 

“It’s Billy, isn’t it?” she asks quietly, and the world has shrunk down to the front cab of Steve’s car with faint noises coming from the party across the street. “He’s your soulmate.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks.

He rubs his hands nervously over his face and thinks about the Mark on his chest, right over his heart. It’s supposed to be lucky, that placement, supposed to indicate the deepest bonds, the truest of loves. What a fucking _joke_. 

“Yeah. It’s him.”

“Do you want me to get Barb to take us home?” Robin asks, reaching out to rub the back of Steve’s neck. Steve doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s party experience, and he opens his mouth to say so when Robin gently squeezes the back of his neck and Steve relaxes just the slightest. “You can say yes, dingus. More time we can spend watching movies in the living room and eating all the leftovers in your fridge.”

He laughs wetly and leans back into Robin’s touch instead of slumping away from it.

“What would I do without you?” Steve asks her, looking over at her with tears in the corners of his eyes and the fondest of smiles on his face.

“Crash and burn,” she answers, snickering and squeezing his neck once more. “I got your back. No matter what, Steve.”

Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. Fuck Marks and soulmates.

It’s all a joke and Steve’s not laughing.

Later, when they’ve all crowded into the living room with dozens of blankets and pillows, a movie playing in the background, and Nancy and Barb and Robin have fallen asleep, Steve lays there, sober and sorrowful, and tries not to cry himself to sleep. He’s only mostly successful.


	5. The Harringtons Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got my shit together and can post this update! Pretty stoked about it.
> 
> Warning that this chapter contains a lot of Steve whump, and some Billy whump as well. I’ll be updating the tags to reflect the nature of it, but you can see the end notes for more specific warnings.

With the holidays just around the corner, Steve starts practicing for the Winter Fair. He shows the kids how to make struffule first, lets them dip the fried balls of dough, hot and fresh, into a dish of honey and eat them just like that.

The newest addition to his little band of charges is the chief of police’s newly adopted daughter, Jane, who goes by El. She’s quiet, curious about everything, like modern technology fascinates her, which makes sense since she ended up with the chief. Hopper still drives a car straight out of the ‘80s.

“These are just the testers,” Steve reminds them when he sees El’s face light up at the first (albeit hot) bite. “The real ones at the Fair will have cinnamon and orange.”

“God, just wait for the angel wings,” Dustin groans, eyes rolling back in his head at the very thought of the chiachierre.

Steve just laughs, because they’re his favorite too, and Nonna finally said that he’s perfected them and can make them for the Fair this year.

Thanksgiving is coming up first, though, and Nonna works double time in the kitchen to prepare meals for a few nonprofit organizations in Indianapolis. Steve generally stays out of her way and only breeches the kitchen doorway when she specifically asks for his help, or on the weekends when he’s teaching and cooking with the kids.

Worse yet is school, because it’s basketball season and apparently that means Billy is comfortable walking around without a goddamn shirt on after school. Steve can’t walk down a hallway without hearing the raucous laughter of Billy and Tommy, can’t leave band class without being taunted by the thick black lines he’s memorized on his own chest. And every time Billy knocks Steve into a locker, or aims a paper airplane at his head, the knowledge he has and Billy doesn’t corporealizes behind him like a specter.

It haunts him, even in his sleep. It’s like now that his brain knows that it’s Billy, Steve subconsciously can’t stop thinking about it.

One day, the week before Thanksgiving break, Steve gets out of band class and he’s walking with Barb. They chat about binging some of the Great British Bake Off next week, when basketball practice lets out and the players spill into the hall. Billy comes swaggering out, snickering over something with Tommy, and automatically Steve’s eyes flit to the Mark. Barb follows Steve’s line of sight to Billy’s chest and she couldn’t keep the small gasp in her mouth.

Billy catches sight of them staring and he smirks, patting the Mark proudly. “Look all you want, ladies. Not everyone can have someone special like me.”

Steve just turns tail and flees the school, pushing past the basketball players headed for the locker rooms and he doesn’t stop until he’s locked inside his car with his hands gripping the steering wheel.

His heart absolutely aches because now he knows fate made a mistake with him.

~

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Steve’s sleeping in on his week off of school but wakes up to the sound of car doors slamming in the driveway. He waits a moment, eyes scrunched up in concentration, and hears the front door open, too. And he feels his heart drop to his stomach.

His parents are home.

Steve steps out into the hallway on shaky legs, tucks his fingers into his sleeves, and creeps down the stairs and into the kitchen where Nonna already has a cup of espresso waiting for him.

“Gratzie, Nonna,” he whispers, sipping at the liquid to wake him up.

Halfway through his cup, his parents come into the kitchen, apparently having stored their second set of luggage in the bedroom. No doubt they have their primary set out and ready to pick for their next trip. Steve wonders if they even know tomorrow is Thanksgiving, if they’ll stay long enough to eat dinner with their son.

Probably not.

David Harrington is dark and debonair, a perfect match for the big-eyed, dark-haired, wasp-waisted Bianca Harrington. Steve looks like his dad - has his dad’s nose and jaw and hair - but he has his mom’s eyes and mouth, and has his nonnino’s moles dotting constellations over his skin. Bianca’s already heading for the wine cabinet next to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of merlot. Steve barely keeps back a sigh at the sight.

“Steven,” David says in lieu of any greeting. It’s been months since he last saw his father. “How are your grades?”

“Brought them all up to B’s-”

“No A’s yet?” David scoffs and rolls his eyes. Steve shuts his mouth and looks away from his dad’s face. He’d been hoping that raising his grades at all would be enough, but he knows deep down that even straight A’s wouldn’t be enough to make his dad happy. “God, Steven, with the allowance that I give you, you’d think you’d use it to hire a _tutor_ or do something _smart_.”

“I _did_ hire a tutor, dad, and I raised my grades up, and I’m still lead chair in b-”

“Band is only a leg up for college applications,” his father condescends. “Which colleges have you applied to?”

Steve bites his lower lip because he’s been struggling with his essay, Barb finally looked over it and helped him make it better, and he’s only submitted his applications to four colleges so far. He knows four won’t please his father.

Then again, nothing ever pleases his father.

The sound of the cork popping out of the bottle is just an exclamation point on his terrible parents.

“Four colleges.”

“And how many are you actually going to get into?” David says with a smug smirk on his face.

Steve’s face, on the other hand, burns with shame. 

Nonna huffs, and wipes her hands on her apron angrily. “Now listen here, David-”

“I’m just giving him some tough love, Luisa,” he deflects with his usual charming smile that works on everyone except for his family. They all know better - they all know it’s fake.

He claps Steve’s shoulder _hard_ , squeezes tight, and Steve winces at the pain. Steve sometimes wonders if his father would ever smack him around, or if that would require too much interaction with Steve. Too much physical contact, too much time spent at home. He releases Steve’s shoulder and kind of shoves him away. Just… icing on the shit cake of his father’s parenting style.

“I’ll be in my office. Dinner at 6.”

Glass clinks behind him followed by the sound of liquid filling up the wine glass no doubt perched between his mother’s fingers.

“ _Bianca, my love, why don’t you put down the wine, yes? It’s so early,_ ” Nonna tells her, pleads with her really, and smiles so gently at the daughter she hasn’t seen home in months. Steve can see the longing in Nonna’s eyes; she wants a relationship with Steve’s mother as much as he does. “ _Come watch a movie with Stefano and me._ ”

But Bianca just raises an eyebrow at her mother, grabs the wine bottle by the neck, cradles the wine glass in her hand, and swishes out of the kitchen in a long skirt that dusts the dustless floor. The door to the downstairs master bedroom clicks closed quietly in the hall.

She’s as silent and unhelpful as always.

Steve downs the rest of his espresso in one gulp. This is going to be a rough ride.

~

He and Nonna hole up in her room where she knits hats for the Party, as they’ve taken to calling themselves, and Steve lays on her soft, quilt-covered bed while watching her fingers work the needles to create tight loop after tight loop. Around 4:30, Steve pokes his head out of her room to find a quiet house - David still in his home office, Bianca still in the master bedroom - and they seek refuge in the kitchen instead of Nonna’s room. Usually, that’s where they spend most of their time anyway, giggling in the warm sunshine cascading through gauzy curtains and talking about recipes and how to make them even better. Steve will show Nonna funny videos of animals on his phone because memes just leave her confused, but animal videos make her coo and idly wish for a pet of her own.

Too bad his father refuses to allow them such a _luxury_. His mother backs David up, lamenting shed hair and dirty paws, like either of them would be around to clean up after a pet.

Now, in the kitchen, they fall into a long-familiar pattern as Steve mindlessly works the dough and rolls it out to make his lasagna.

“Stefano, let me show you how to make the sauce,” Nonna says from where she’s been sitting at the counter.

Steve’s mouth drops open. He knows that it’s a gift for the crap his parents put him through this morning - put him through every day, really. Nonna’s recipe for tomato sauce is so secretive that she shoos him from the kitchen entirely when she makes it. Now that he’s getting to learn it, it’s like Christmas has come early.

It makes him forget about his shitty parents who only show up to cause chaos and then leave behind Steve wrecked and ruined.

“Fresh rosemary,” Nonna Luisa tells him, handing over a sprig for Steve to pull the leaves from. She passes him the pepper grinder next. “Black pepper.” Then, she grabs an expensive bottle of red wine from his mother’s collection. Steve knows it’s expensive because Nonna always scoffs at how much Bianca paid for it. Now she shows it off with a smug look of her own and Steve’s mouth drops open. “And red wine. My secrets for the perfect sauce, mio caro.”

Soon enough, he’s got a pot of sauce simmering on the stove, and he’s smiling and proud of the fact that he made it himself.

Steve gets to work on kneading and rolling out the dough for the pasta. He and Nonna make the best team, of course, so they finish dinner right on time. Steve even sets up the dining room table on his own, plates and silverware and napkins and water glasses. By the time 6:00 rolls around, there’s a piping-hot lasagna on the table, a salad that Steve had prepared himself, and other than Nonna’s homemade bread, Steve really has prepared dinner all by himself.

David bustles into the dining room ten minutes late, as if he hadn’t been the one to set the time for them to all eat, and his eyes widen when he sees the spread in front of them. “Wow, Luisa, you’ve really outdone yourself. Everything smells amazing.”

“Actually, _your son_ made everything,” Nonna says with her dark eyes narrowed on David’s face.

The older Harrington splutters, not knowing what to say to that. “I… that’s very funny, Luisa, but if Steve could cook for himself, why is he still so fat? It’s from all those chips and prepackaged meals he eats.” David stabs at the salad and holds his fork up to point at Steve. “Maybe if he ate more vegetables…”

It cuts at something deep inside him, the knowledge that his father gave up on him over something as trivial as his weight. His success in music doesn’t matter. His progress academically doesn’t matter. Hell, the fact that he’s going to college doesn’t matter to David Harrington.

Nonna opens her mouth to undoubtedly lay into David for saying something so callous when he continues, “Anyway, we have to leave for a conference first thing tomorrow morning.” He shovels some of the lasagna onto his plate next to a small portion of salad and two slices of bread slathered with butter. “In D.C. Very important for work.”

They’re both silent, Bianca sipping another glass of red wine - Steve would bet she’s moved on to a new bottle, knowing her drinking habits.

“Dad… tomorrow’s Thanksgiving,” he says weakly, looking down the table at his father only to meet a blank stare.

“Oh, right.” David takes a bite of his lasagna and chews it slowly as he thinks about that fact. Then, he shrugs. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing our flight leaves at 8.” He takes a sip of his water and raises an eyebrow at Steve. “That should give you plenty of time to stuff your face all day.”

Steve moves lettuce around his plate as he stews in his anger and frustration and deep, aching hurt.

“David, you’ll stop that right now,” Nonna commands. And maybe she usually tries to defuse the situation, but every now and again she’ll end up laying into Steve’s father for his poor treatment of her grandson. “I’ve listened to you disparage him quite enough.”

“Maybe if he got a proper job, I’d respect him more,” David shoots back meanly. His eyes narrow on Nonna before flicking back over to Steve. “You need to find work. We’re not going to support you lazing about the house with your grandmother.” David stabbed a tomato on his plate and held it out to point at Steve. “Don’t think we won’t cut you off. Because we will.”

Nonna rolls her eyes visibly, which only helps assuage the churning in Steve’s gut by a little.

Because Steve’s told his father about his babysitting, and he’s made really good money in it, too. His savings account sits nice and healthy at a couple thousand dollars since he saves every penny he makes but for buying Christmas and birthday presents. He budgets with Nonna every two weeks with what his parents send him as an allowance for food and gas. He keeps Bs in his classes, works with a tutor, plays an instrument and is in the school band. He’s not lazy - Steve works hard, and it’s so frustrating to hear his father discount all of his efforts to make his life better. To be more responsible, just like his father wanted him to be.

Maybe, if he could lose weight, if he could look like his slender parents, they’d love him more. 

But then something clicks in Steve’s head.

Nothing he ever does, nothing he’ll ever do, will _ever_ be enough for David Harrington.

If he made As in his classes, David would complain that he didn’t have enough extracurriculars. If he got into a top college, even David’s alma-mater, his father would bring up that Steve didn’t get a scholarship - or, if he did, that it’d be next to impossible for Steve to maintain it. If he lost weight… if he looked _normal_ , like them, it wouldn’t change anything but the fat jokes at Steve’s expense.

The realization is about as freeing as it is upsetting, so Steve just nods and shuts down. Doesn’t touch his food. Can’t, because he has no appetite. David doesn’t notice and finishes up his plate before downing his glass of wine.

“Well, Luisa, thank you for the meal,” David says, standing up and wiping off with the red pressed napkin that Steve ironed last week. He and Nonna had been getting them ready for Christmas.

“Steve made the meal,” Nonna repeats, sounding dangerous - like a dragon about to spread her wings, flex her talons, and light the world on fire. “You thank your son, David.”

David pauses, looking down at the table and then at his son. “But this is your sauce,” he says, pointing to the lasagna.

“I taught him how to make it today,” Nonna states, eyes icy and voice cold as stone. “And he did a beautiful job, didn’t he? Does it not taste exactly like mine?”

Bianca, even in her stupor, sits up curiously at the admission. “You… gave him the recipe?”

“I did,” Nonna says cuttingly, looking over at her daughter. “I taught him exactly how to make this sauce of mine because he has worked so hard and he deserves it.”

David’s fingers curl around the top of his chair and his jaw clenches.

“Not bad, Steven.”

That’s the best he’ll ever get from his father.

The next morning, on Thanksgiving, Steve lays with his head in Nonna’s lap, letting her careful fingers brush through his hair. His parents left early to get to the airport in time.

They didn’t even say goodbye.

~

That weekend, he and Nonna go to the store for their usual shopping trip. She’s trying to find the best red onions, grumbling about how this year, she’s going to build the greenhouse she’s always talked about. Steve’s still quiet and a little downtrodden after his parents’ brief appearance, hasn’t even touched his phone since entering the store. He’s hunched over the cart, mind a million miles away, when he spots a familiar face across the produce section.

Poking at the apple display is none other than Max.

Steve grins, because as much shit as Max gives him, he’s still fond of her. More fond of her than of Mike, that’s for damn sure. He makes his way over and laughs gently when he notices Max’s face light up, but then her face falls and she glances guiltily over her shoulder.

And only a few feet away from her is Susan and… surprisingly, trailing close to the cart, he sees the hunched shoulders of none other than Billy Hargrove.

“Hey, Max,” Steve says in a soft voice, a little nervous about Max’s sudden change of demeanor. She’s usually stoked to see Steve, even if only to make fun of him and ask after Nonna. He knows that Billy gives her a hard time and he wonders, briefly, if she’s afraid to be excited to see him and Nonna because Billy’s there. “...Everything okay?”

“Steve,” Max starts, licking her lips. Those pale blue eyes gaze up at him and then cut to the side. “Maybe now isn’t-”

“Steve,” Susan greets, and her smile looks so put upon, so _fake_ that it makes Steve’s insides twist. Does Billy harass everyone in his house, too? “What are you doing here?”

The familiar name has Billy’s head darting up, face white as a sheet below the blotchy purple-and-red of the bruise swollen around his eye. Steve suspects he looks a little crazy with his eyes wide in shock at the sight of Billy with an injury. For as many fights that Billy picks, he usually gets out of them without a scratch. Did some kids jump him?

Susan looks nervous as she glances around. Her smile freezes on her face and Steve washes the blood flee her face when she spots Nonna.

“Miss Susan, is everything okay?” Steve asks, eyes flickering from face to face.

“Everything’s fine,” Susan insists, smoothing her hands over her skirt. She glances over at Nonna again. “We’re just… shopping. Just shopping.”

Steve frowns and opens his mouth to ask a question, watching Billy hunch down over the cart again as if trying to make himself look as small as possible. Billy would never back down to Steve in any other situation. That he is now, perhaps not backing away so much as keeping himself shielded from Steve’s eyes makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Okay… Well, I’m sorry I interrupted. I’ll, um, see Max next week?”

“Susan!” Nonna Luisa calls out, bustling over to say hello. “Oh, how good to see you and little Max here.” She peers behind their shuffling, embarrassed bodies to see Billy by the cart. “And Billy, yes?” Nonna pauses when Billy raises his head, his face an ugly, mottled mess of color and shame. “Ah, yes, I remember you.” Nonna comes over and starts to fuss about his eye. “Now, put some arnica cream and vaseline on this when you get home. It will help with the swelling.”

Steve is… confused. Utterly confused. But he can’t help thinking how - how completely _cute_ it is to see Billy, usually so cocky and confident and rebellious, getting fussed over by Nonna Luisa. At least the pale of his face melted into a flustered pink flush from having Nonna cooing and rubbing at his shoulder. It reminds Steve of when he’d used to come home with an injury from riding his bike, or when he’d get into disagreements with other kids at school and they’d push him down. Seeing that focused attention on Billy, now, makes Steve’s heart flutter in his chest. He wonders if it’s the Mark, if it’s them being soulmates… if Nonna can tell, somehow, that they’re fated.

“I’ll send my Stefano over with some meals later,” Nonna says, and when Susan stutters out a refusal, Nonna Luisa shakes her head and even goes so far to reach out to hold Susan’s shoulders firmly. She inhales deeply and catches Susan’s eyes, giving her an intense look. “Susan, now, you listen here. I am making you food. And you will let Stefano bring them. And Susan, if you need anything… anything at all. You call me.”

There are tears in Susan’s eyes as she nods, giving Nonna a watery smile. “Thank you, Nonna Luisa.”

With one single nod, Nonna lets her go and steps away. “Come Stefano. We must be on our way.”

Later, when it’s just the two of them unpacking groceries and Nonna goes through the freezer to pull out a few meals for the Hargrove household, Steve shelves things into the pantry when he pauses. He takes a breath and moves to look at her.

“What happened today?” he asks Nonna, biting at his lower lip.

The look on Billy’s face when Steve caught sight of him has been stuck in his mind all day, almost on loop - the way Billy had been hunched over, the way he looked up with fear in his eyes when Steve’s name was mentioned, the way he’d shied away like he didn’t want to be seen. There’s no way Billy had gotten into a fight with another kid their age; if he had, Billy would have been crowing about it. Would have rubbed it in Steve’s face.

What is Steve missing?

Nonna takes a slow breath and shuts the freezer door. “Stefano, my love,” she starts, turning to look at him. “Sometimes in life, people do not end up with those who they should be able to trust.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean, Nonna?”

Nonna sits at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, sighing, and gestures to the seat across from her. Once Steve sits down, she reaches out to hold Steve’s hand gently in both of her own. 

“You need to keep this to yourself,” she tells him. “This is no one else’s business but their own.”

Steve nods because he doesn’t know what else to do. Everything is going right over his head and… and he just wants answers. He hates feeling stupid. Can’t stand it. Nonna knows that and once he’s agreed to keep it to himself she sighs again and rubs her fingers in tiny circles over the backs of his knuckles.

“Mio bambino… Mr. Hargrove is hurting his family,” she admits in a quiet voice. Almost like she’s trying to whisper, like someone could overhear them alone in this big house, away from the rest of the town.

Quiet or not, Steve feels like the world shifts to the left and everything clicks into place.

“You see… Susan, she is a sweet girl,” Nonna continues. “But the fear in her eyes when she is with her husband? That is something I’ve seen before. And your Billy, he’s become the scapegoat.”

“A… goat?”

Nonna’s serious gaze cracks slightly on a smile.

“Mi amore. I love you. Never change,” she tells him, reaching over to stroke her knuckles over his cheekbone. “A scapegoat, it means… it means he is given the punishment for everyone.” Her dark eyes, so like his own, are sad as she looks at him. Steve’s breath catches in his chest. “That bruise on his eye? His father’s work.” Nonna squeezes his hand. “Perhaps not even the worst of what Billy has gotten before.”

Steve’s mind is reeling from the knowledge. Billy’s father is the one who gave him a black eye. Billy’s father… Billy’s father beats him. The uncomfortable twisting in his stomach that he’d felt earlier came back full-force, twisting further into nausea. _Fuck._ It all makes sense. 

Max’s attitude problem and how she picks at everyone. Susan’s shifty eyes and overly friendly demeanor today, the way she seems constantly on edge. Billy’s aggression, his bullying, the way he tackled everything like he could punch his way through whatever obstacle was in his way. The wild look in Billy’s eyes. The shame clear as day on his face when Steve saw him.

He shivered unpleasantly.

Because while Steve can’t exactly forget the fact that Billy torments him at school - less often now that Steve is his stepsister’s babysitter - he can forgive Billy for it given the situation. (The _context_ , he tells himself, trying to use words he learned in class.) He can’t forget about the humiliation, the constant ragging, the aggression in the hallways. But… he can forgive it.

When Steve gets to their house on Cherry Lane, his heart thumps hard in his chest. This house is so different from his own. Smaller, for one. Homier, too. Lived in. While he and Nonna do their best with the Harrington house in Loch Nora, it’s too big and there aren’t enough people to really fill it unless he has the kids over. He parks on the street and takes a deep breath to gather strength.

He carries two large dishes in his arms - the first is another pan of his homemade lasagna; the second is a rosemary risotto with roasted shrimp and an buttery herb ciabatta bread wrapped up foil on top. He presses a finger to the doorbell and waits in the cold night air, shivering even under his coat and thick navy sweater.

It’s crisp and clear outside, and there are dark clouds covering the moon. It smells like snow.

He’s so busy looking up into the sky that he startles slightly when the door opens.

“Steve?”

“Hey Billy,” Steve breathes out, his exhale forming a small cloud in the cold. His eyes linger for a moment on the black eye, which makes Billy scrunch his face up in a frown before looking away. Steve inhales sharply and pastes on a smile, carefully shaking the dishes he carries to gesture to them without a word. “Nonna sent me by with food. Um, like she told Miss Susan at the store?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Billy scoffed, his cheeks going a little red and he ducks his head down to avoid Steve’s eyes. It’s… it’s cute. Really cute. Steve grits his teeth.

He is _not_ growing to like his bully. He’s not. Even if his bully is his soulmate. No way.

So Steve snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. _Whatever._ Take it, man.”

Billy huffs and holds his arms out, and their hands graze when handing the dishes over. It makes Steve shiver because Billy is so warm, practically burning where their fingers touch in passing the food to each other.

Surveying the dishes, Billy’s face lights up. “Oh, man, the lasagna again? That shit was _so good_.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, before he forces a cough to cover how breathy his voice had gotten. Because the lasagna was all Steve. He licks his lips and glances up at Billy from under his dark eyelashes. He looks into Billy's eyes, so very blue, takes in those long lashes framing them, and tamps down on the emotion rising up in his stomach. “Good. I’m glad you liked it.”

Billy breathes in, holding the two dishes and the bread expertly under one arm. “You… made the lasagna, right?” Steve nods and shrugs his shoulders. No big deal, right? It was kind of a big deal, because it’s Steve’s speciality, but like… It’s whatever. “Cool. That shit is bitchin’.”

Steve nods slowly. “Yep. Same lasagna you dropped into the trashcan in front of everyone at school.”

Maybe if Steve was less petty, he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Maybe it’s because outside of school, Billy doesn’t really harass him. Or, maybe it’s because Billy’s life got split open right in front of Steve at the supermarket today. 

As it was, Billy coughed and looked away, the flush under his subtle freckles lining the tops of his cheeks stood out in contrast.

“Yeah. I-” Billy swallowed thickly. “I’m… I was kind of an ass, Harrington.” He laughed humorlessly. “More than kind of. I _was_ an ass. And… I’m sorry.”

The confession is more than Steve ever expected to get from the guy who consistently and constantly harassed him every day at school. Still, hearing the words makes his stomach flip in a pleasant way.

“Yeah. You… I mean. Dude, you were a total dick to me. But-” Steve licks his lips and shrugs as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. “But… Like, I can forgive you.” He swallows thickly and looks away. “Or. You know. Whatever.”

He manages to glance up out of the corner of his eye at Billy, who’s smiling at him.

“Yeah. Whatever, Harrington.”

Steve laughs. “Alright. Well, enjoy the food, yeah? Have Miss Susan call my nonna to let her know how it is.”

Billy shrugs and turns his head away on a grin. “Yeah… I’ll tell Susan to do that.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Yeah, you too, Steve.”

Steve walks back to his car, smile curling at the edges of his lips all the way. When he slides in and slams the car door, he glances up at the door and catches Billy still standing there in the doorframe. Billy’s mouth is parted, and it almost feels like their eyes are still locked when Steve sits there, breathing slowly and watching Billy linger in the doorway.

The blonde stand there for a long moment and then looks down at the food under his arm before raising his free hand to wave absently towards Steve’s car, then the door closes behind him and leaves Steve alone in the driveway.

On his way back to Loch Nora, Steve rolls the windows down and sings along with Stevie Nicks and lets the wind blow through his hair. He finds himself wondering what kind of music Billy likes, wondering what it would be like to have Billy in the passenger seat. The image of their fingers linking atop Billy’s thigh passes through his mind before Steve pushes it firmly to the back of his mind.

It’ll never happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings: Verbal abuse, emotional abuse, body shaming, description of injuries sustained from child abuse, implied domestic abuse.
> 
> I think we’re finally taking some steps forward between these two boys, though - what do you think?


	6. It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Have some Christmas-y flavor. 
> 
> Happy holidays to everyone!

The Winter Fair is Steve’s favorite event of the year. He and Nonna spend every single weeknight and weekend preparing their wares. They’ve been running the stall at the Hawkins Winter Fair since the second year Nonna lived with him, a tradition outside of normal holiday traditions that’s all their own. They’ve perfected their system since their first year at the Fair, and they sell pretty much the same things every year.

Sell out of everything by the second to last day, too.

Sometimes, Steve wants to try new flavors with the pizzelle, like the mocha version last year, or the failed batch of cranberry almond the year before. This year he’s made peanut butter and honey pizzelle, and they’re surprisingly tasty. Even Nonna had a second helping, which is endorsement enough in Steve’s eyes.

The angel wings are bagged by the pound in cellophane bags twist-tied shut. The amaretti are stacked neatly in tiny red boxes. Steve came up with the idea of putting the Italian wedding cookies into a cup with a domed lid, decorated in gold stars. Even the Panettone are cutely wrapped, thanks to El and Max who tied tiny red bows around each of the cellphone-wrapped cakes. 

The sfogliatelle are to die for… and Steve maybe snuck one earlier in the day, just to check and make sure it’ll pass muster. Even without the fillings, Steve is proud of how they turned out. His specialty are the Santa Rosa style, larger and filled with black cherry and whipped cream. Wrapped in sets of two, Steve sets them out at the end of the table closest to passers-by.

This year, Dustin is standing with Steve behind the stall while Nonna and Miss Claudia traipse around the Fair looking for last minute presents and treats.

It’s four days before Christmas and there’s a thick layer of snow already blanketing the ground. It doesn’t even feel all that cold even with Steve’s breath coming out in little clouds around him.

Dustin’s passing out hot chocolate with marshmallows, which always boosts their sales because who didn’t like hot chocolate with marshmallows?

After handing little Henry Armiger his third cup for the night, much to the chagrin of his father, Dustin pops a marshmallow into his mouth.

Steve flicks his ear. “Stop eating the merchandise.”

“I’m not even getting paid in food?!” Dustin lets out an offrented noise, hands on his hips as he regards Steve. It’s a move he 100% gets from Steve the Babysitter himself. “This is unpaid labor and I won’t stand for it.”

“Fine, have another marshmallow,” Steve deadpans. 

“I can’t wait for the struffule at the party this weekend.” Dustin smacks his lips loudly around the marshmallow he tosses into his mouth. Then come the muffled words, “I’m gonna eat so many!”

Steve crinkles his nose in disgust and shoves a gloved hand in Dustin’s face. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s not cute. You’re gonna wait for the party and _then_ you can eat to your heart’s content.”

Steve doesn’t say things like “pig out” or “stuff your face.” There are just too many bad memories around those derogatory phrases for him to feel comfortable using them.

“Are you sure I can’t have any angel wings now?” Dustin asks, a hopeful tone in his voice, and Steve outright laughs and rests his hand on top of Dustin’s head, right over the fuzzy hat Nonna knitted him last year.

“Are you going to buy them?” Steve shoots back pointedly. He’s biting his lip to fight back a smile.

Dustin deflates.

“C’mon, buddy, you know Nonna always sets some aside for you,” Steve gives in, rolling his eyes and handing the chiacchiere over. “Don’t tell her I let you have a bag yet and she’ll probably give you another one.”

Dustin’s already torn open the bag and has his hand crammed into it. “Thanks so much, Steve! Best big brother a guy could have.”

Steve does _not_ tear up. He doesn’t.

He just sniffs a little because it’s cold out.

~

All of Steve’s usual suspects are invited to the party. The Party, for one, all six of them, even Ellie. Erica ends up coming too, and Judy Sinclair asks Steve if he could take her on too after the holidays. Steve probably shouldn’t since he’s already watching over six middle schoolers, and it would only be through the end of the summer until he leaves in the fall.

But when he tells Judy this, she smiles. “Well, that’s perfect! That’ll give us enough time to find someone else even half as good as you, Steve.”

So, he’s got yet another kid under his wing.

He invites Robin and Barb and Nancy and Jonathan, of course. And Nonna holds court in the dining room, pouring glasses of wine for the adults who came - Claudia, obviously, but also Joyce Byers and Karen, Mr. Wheeler, the Hollands, and even Hopper.

As usual, Max is the last person to show. And with her, she brings Miss Susan, who is quiet but has a hopeful look in her eyes, and…

Billy.

He looks good, though. Really good, actually. Steve takes a deep breath when he opens the door and Billy’s standing there just behind Susan in a gray sweater with a light blue button-down underneath. He’s only wearing a black leather jacket to ward off the cold but looks as comfortable as any other time. Confident. Steve’s eyes drift down for a split moment while Max runs off to the living room and Nonna escorts Susan into the dining room. Billy’s wearing his standard boots but layered over them are these dark, tight blue jeans that make Steve feel like his heart is beating right out of his chest. Billy looks so put-together that Steve’s shocked for a moment into speechlessness.

It should be criminal for someone to look that good, and yet there’s Billy, standing in his foyer.

“Let me get your coat,” Steve says, stretching his hands out to the collar of Billy’s jacket, but Billy jerks away - and from the way he grits his teeth and clenches his hands right after, like he’s more pissed off by his reaction, the flinch is mostly involuntary.

A survival instinct in reaction to a familiar movement.

Steve swallows thickly. He knows why Billy would flinch away from sudden movement of hands near his face.

Shucking it himself, Billy can’t meet Steve’s eye as he holds the jacket out. “Here. Don’t fuck with it. My cigarettes are in the pocket and they’re my last pack until I get paid on Friday.”

Steve didn’t even know that Billy had a job. His eyebrows go up but he bobs his head in assent. “Sure, yeah. I’ll just hang it up in the front closet.”

Steve opens the door, puts the jacket on a hanger, and pauses for a moment. He makes space behind the other coats and slides the jacket next to his. Taking a look at them together, Steve feels his heart soar, because it feels right. And then it sinks. Because as much as it feels right, their jackets don’t _look_ right next to each other. Billy’s leather jacket is all suave coolness; Steve’s ugly puffed monstrosity is for maximum warmth.

Their jackets are a lot like them.

Billy is truly the opposite of Steve. Blonde hair, blue eyes. He’s the coolest guy in school, probably the most attractive, too; and, if Steve’s being honest with himself, he can admit that Billy is… just absolutely gorgeous when he’s all done up like he is tonight. He doesn’t look bad half-naked after basketball practice, either, with his sweaty skin on display, bearing his Mark proudly.

Then there’s Steve. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. He’s one of the lowest ranking geeks in school, a target for all the bullies. Even Billy, when he first started at Hawkins High School, found Steve to be easy pickings even if he leaves Steve alone now, doesn’t even join in when Tommy starts tearing him apart verbally. He’s not very smart and he doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s sensitive. Soft, inside and out, because he’s also _fat._ Nonna likes to say he’s big-boned, but honestly, Steve knows better. He knows he’s bigger than the other kids at school, has been since middle school.

He’s come to terms with being chubby in his own way but now, confronted with the evidence of how unmatched he and Billy are, Steve can’t help but deflate a little.

He shuts the closet door, turning to find that Billy’s already made his way to the living room where the true ruckus is.

The kids have Home Alone playing on the television and are eating too many cookies and too much chocolate, all of them clambering for the struffule dipped in honey and topped with cinnamon and orange. Dustin has his hand in the bag of chiacchiere Nonna set aside for him. Nancy sits leaning back against Jonathan on the floor near the couch, practically curled up in his lap, talking to Barb and Robin who sit on the loveseat.

When Steve walks in, Billy is stiffly standing next to an armchair. He rolls his eyes when Billy meets his gaze and gestures with his chin to the chair. Billy sits immediately, seemingly surprised at how quick to action he’d been.

Billy’s all spikes and biting comments about everything - the kids being too loud, the movie playing on the TV, the lack of alcohol available for the teen crowd - until Barb pulls him into a discussion about Shakespeare. Then he actually starts to relax. The hunch of his shoulders up around his ears dissipates until Billy is having a normal conversation.

Still biting, still teasing, but there’s no venom behind it. It matches well with Barb’s sass.

Robin catches his eye over everyone’s heads and quirks an eyebrow. He can read what she’s asking without the words ever coming out of her mouth.

_Are you okay? Is it okay that he’s here?_

Steve shrugs a shoulder and tilts his head back and forth. It’s not ideal, it’s not amazing, but he’ll manage. 

He always does.

(Like the time he asked Tammy Thompson out because she kept glancing at him in class and smiling and giggling, only for Steve to find out that she was looking at Brayden Brooks who sat behind him. Or the time at band camp when everyone paired off at the final dance and Steve stood all night along the wall, swallowing his nerves and disappointment like razors down his throat. Or the time when Nico Giuseppe from the soccer team kissed him under the bleachers during gym class and then socked him in the stomach to keep him from telling anyone. Like anyone would believe that Nico could ever want to kiss _him._ )

Steve is a trooper.

He sits next on the couch by Jonathan’s shoulder and leans against the armrest, listening to the conversation around his group of friends and his- and Billy. Billy’s really smart and holds his own against Barb and Nancy and Robin, and Steve can tell that Barb really likes him for how easily she’s talking. At school she comes off as shy but Steve knew how truly chatty Barb could be.

He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t pay attention to the wobble against his side as Dustin stands and loses his footing. It takes the hot liquid (thankfully not scalding) splashing down his shoulder to realize what’s going on.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, Steve I’m so sorry!” Dustin yells from his side and Steve hisses at the uncomfortable, hot, sticky mess of his sweater now.

“It’s okay, Dustin, stop cursing,” Steve says, sighing and standing up. “At least you didn’t get any on the couch, right? Somehow it all… ended up on me.”

Of course, that’s when Nonna ducks her head into the room curiously, ever the grandmother she is, to check out what exactly happened. Spotting Steve’s stained sweater and Dustin’s guilty face, she clicks her tongue and shakes her head.

“Dusty, what did you do to my Stefano?” Nonna asks, and just before she can bustle in and start fussing, like she’s wont to do, Steve holds up his hand.

He lets out a bark of a laugh, shaking his head and fighting back the red flush threatening to spread up his neck to his face.

“I’m gonna go change in the laundry room, okay?” he tells the room, which has completely stopped for this fiasco. The back of his neck burns as he leaves for the hall and sweeps past Nonna.

“Stefano, do you need my help?” Nonna asks, and Steve shakes his head but says nothing.

He doesn’t want to be mean to his nonna and right now he knows if he says anything, it’ll be lashing out at her. He’s done enough of that in his life and he loves her too much to want to hurt her. He walks down the hall, into the laundry room, shuts the door behind him, and leans back against it for a long moment.

The embarrassment makes his stomach turn and his eyes sting. It makes his face burn as the flush finally raises to his cheeks. He knows Dustin didn’t mean to, but the negative attention all on him was overwhelming.

At least he can lick his proverbial wounds in peace in here.

Steve liked this sweater, thought he looked good in it when he put it on earlier in the evening. It’s cream colored and the hot chocolate is undoubtedly going to stain it, but he shrugs off both the sweater and the plain white t-shirt he had on underneath and takes the bottle of shout to it, spraying it down and hoping that will come out in the wash.

Grabbing some paper towels, Steve wets them at the sink and starts to wipe himself down. Just as he’s gotten the stickiness off his skin and drops the paper towels into the trash can, the door opens behind him.

“Nonna, I told you I didn’t need any help,” he grits out, the defensiveness that he’d fought down before flaring up again. He can take care of himself. That’s why she moved in with him in the first place, right? “I got the stain remover on it and I’ll throw it in the washer s-”

Steve turns around to speak with Nonna, only to find that Nonna hadn’t opened the door.

It’s Billy who stands in the doorway.

And his eyes go right to the Mark on Steve’s chest. The one that matches Billy’s. The one Steve’s had since he was eleven. The one he’s been hiding since he learned that its mate is on Billy’s chest.

Steve’s flush darkens and he turns away.

“It’s- it’s not what it looks like,” Steve attempts to say, biting into his lower lip and worrying it between his teeth. He can’t even face Billy, confronted with a situation he’d been hoping to avoid.

Obviously, fate has other ideas for him.

“It isn’t?” Billy’s voice is brittle and cold, and it makes Steve shiver before he glances over his shoulder. Narrowed eyes gaze back at him, unflinching and mean. “Because it looks like you have my Mark on your chest. Same place mine is.”

“Definitely not what it looks like, then,” Steve croaks, and turns back to look for a stray shirt. He’s already uncomfortable enough standing there with his stomach out, with his puffy chest - Tommy used to tell him he had tits. Asked if Steve needed help finding a bra in the store, said that Carol would be more than happy to help him find the prettiest one while Carol herself made vomiting gestures next to Tommy. “The Mark on my chest is mine.”

There’s silence behind him and Steve finally grabs a ratty gray gym shirt, the one with “Hawkins” emblazoned in faded, worn green print over the chest. He’s got a single arm in it, about to pull it over his head, when Billy touches his shoulder.

Steve jerks away. “No, don’t touch me.”

“Steve,” Billy growls, reaching out with both hands this time to turn Steve around completely and push him up against the far wall.

Billy had his hands on Steve’s shoulders, has him pinned, and Steve wants to writhe like a worm in the mouth of a bird. Like he does every time Billy used to rush him in the halls and knock his books down. Or slam him into a locker. Or call him names. Or any number of things he used to do before Steve found out his dirty little secret. Billy’s eyes scan down Steve’s body, landing on the Mark on his chest.

“We’re soulmates,” Billy says. There’s something surprised in his voice. “You’re my soulmate? You?”

Steve runs his hands through his hair as he feels himself finally crack. He screws his eyes shut and twists his mouth up, wishing that the last two months since Tina’s party were all just a bad dream. Then he lets out a mirthless laugh.

“You think I don’t know what people think when they look at me? You think I don’t know how boring and fat and stupid I am?” Steve looks up at Billy, dark eyes fierce and wet. “Even my dad doesn’t miss an opportunity to tell me how worthless I am and how fate made a mistake giving me a soulmate.” He slaps a hand over his own Mark. “And now I’m thinking fate did, making my bully my soulmate.”

“Fuck you,” Billy scoffs, turning around towards the door.

“No, fuck _you_ , Billy,” Steve spits out, standing up with clenched fists. “Fuck you. I didn’t do a goddamn thing to you and you’ve picked on me since you got here. Because I’m an easy target. Well, newsflash—you’re my soulmate. You have no idea what it’s been like, seeing a Mark that matches mine on the body of someone who hates me. Who picks on me and makes me feel as worthless as my parents do.”

“How long have you known, Steve?” Billy asks, sounding shocked, and all the fight drains out of him. His shoulders slump, his face both dumbfounded and full of wonder. “How long?”

“Does it matter?” Steve’s voice is sharp, meant to cut.

“It matters,” Billy tells him, fingers slowly curling into fists. “How _long_?”

“Since October,” Steve confesses and spits the words out meanly, pushing a hand through his hair. “Tina’s party. You were coming across the room to, like, fuck with me or whatever. And I was drunk enough that I didn’t care.”

“You looked like you were ready to fight me,” Billy comments with a faraway look in his eyes. Like he’s remembering the night that turned Steve’s life on its head.

“I was,” Steve says, simply, and shrugs. “But then… I saw it. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t deal. I had to get out of there. And then your basketball practices, you’d fucking- you’d _taunt_ me with it. I felt like I couldn’t escape it.”

“Steve,” Billy starts, making an aborted effort to reach out to him. Steve flinches, because every touch that’s come from Billy has hurt. Billy’s face falls along with his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, and his eyes are not just wet; they’re also _stinging_ with the urge to shed tears. But he’ll be damned if he lets someone like _Billy Hargrove_ see him cry. “Don’t pretend you care. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” Billy contradicts him, gesturing between their Marks. “This is… Steve, this is _big_. This _means_ something to me.”

“It means nothing to me,” Steve lies through his teeth, looking away because he can’t say it to Billy’s face. 

Steve’s Mark means everything to him. Growing up being teased and made fun of for any number of things - his weight, being in band, his grandmother being so involved in his life, his _weird food_ , his parents never being around - gave him perspective, and hope for the future. Hope for _his future_ with the other half of his soul. 

“Don’t say that,” Billy pleads with him, stepping forward towards Steve. “Steve. Don’t. Let me just... try.”

“Try,” Steve repeats with a little laugh, but it’s dry and brittle and cracks when it comes out of his throat. “Try what?”

“Let me try to make this work,” Billy manages to croak out. He’s obviously struggling with the words, and Steve isn’t saintly enough not to take pleasure in the strain. It’s a novel experience to see Billy on unstable footing. “Let me try to change. To make it up to you.”

“You’re gonna have to work real hard, Hargrove,” Steve challenges, eyes as hard and cold as stone, because it’s not going to take overnight for Steve to loosen up. 

He suspects that it’ll be too hard for Billy to put aside his ego at school, and Steve won’t put up with a fake front where Billy treats him like shit at school and then wants to be nice to him in private. But Steve knows he’s worth more than that.

Billy looks at him for a long moment, appraising him, and it’s almost as if in his scrutiny, Billy sees him for the first time - really sees him. Then, he nods only once.

“I’m a hard worker, Harrington,” is all Billy says before he turns around and heads back to the party, shutting the door softly behind him.

Steve grabs a clean towel from the stack on the shelf and screams into it. He pulls the ratty shirt on and then slips upstairs to put on his tried-and-true red sweater, the one that Nonna says makes him look handsome.

When he comes back down, he detours into the kitchen to bring out a tray of Nonna’s finger sandwiches and a tray of her chocolate chip cookies. It’s as much a distraction for himself as for everyone else.

He catches Billy’s eye later on, while everyone is busy exchanging and opening gifts.

Steve tries a smile. The answering quirk to Billy’s lips, though it’s small, tells him that maybe… just maybe, they have a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* 😈
> 
> So... what do you guys think of this chapter?
> 
> “After 6 chapters,” you deadpan, “we finally got somewhere.”
> 
> We sure did, guys. We sure did. I’ve had this fic planned out per chapter for a couple months now. I hope you’re feeling as hopeful as I am after this chapter. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://rvspberryjvm.tumblr.com/) if you’d like to come yell at me.
> 
> As always, consider leaving a kudo and/or a comment to let me know what you think!


	7. Baby Steps

Back at school, the first week of January, Steve doesn’t know what to expect from Billy.

Sure, they spent the rest of break texting constantly, sending silly snaps, and even giving phone conversations a try. After the first one, Billy calls him every night before they go to bed, their voices quiet and soft and a little sleepy towards the end when they’re both trying to stifle yawns and devolve into giggle fits when they fail at hiding how tired they’ve become. It’s intimate in a way Steve’s never really experienced before - it’s almost like when he was in middle school and would stay up all night Friday and Saturday talking with Robin over their new cell phones. They even shared their Snapchat codes and have a streak of sending morning selfies - Billy’s are, predictably, heart-melting, whereas Steve sends photos of his ridiculous bed hair, fluffy and sticking up in every and all directions, with half his face hidden in his pillow.

It’s through these phone calls that Steve finds out the bands Billy likes, his favorite foods, and his favorite television shows. Steve even listens to Billy ramble for half an hour about his Camaro and her specs, how he’d named her Charlotte because she’s both a badass and a fine lady. (That comment makes Steve giggle as he looks at the sports car framed over his desk. He’s more than a little jealous of Billy’s car.) He finds out that Billy’s trying to get a scholarship to college so he won’t have to rely on his father anymore.

Sure, Billy even opens up a little about his father - enough to call him a _hardass_ and a _mean motherfucker_ who sometimes popped Billy one for speaking out of turn, or getting home a minute late, or any number of things Neil deemed too big an offense. Steve’s dumb, but he’s not dumb enough not to read between the lines to know what kind of person Neil is.

And sure, Billy asks why his parents aren’t around - asks if they’re dead, which makes Steve laugh hollowly over the line late one night when Billy snuck out to sit in his car and smoke a cigarette. Billy listens when he explains how his father doesn’t think Steve’s worthy of his time, how his mother sinks to the bottom of a bottle every day, and how they’ve left him in Nonna’s care. Steve even cracks his own heart open for Billy to see when he shares that they left him by himself when he was eleven. But Billy also asks Steve about his favorite pastimes, and movies, and what music he listens to. Asks about Nonna, almost shyly, because he’d insulted her cooking before and yet she had sent his family home with beautiful meals and was so nice to him at the store, because Nonna Luisa is nothing if not the most charming grandmotherly woman to ever walk the earth.

But all of that work they’ve done over break, Steve and Billy, doesn’t mean shit when it comes to being at school and around their peers. People who judge them both. People who like Billy, because Billy is popular. And Billy likes being popular.

So Steve doesn’t put a lot of stock into the idea of interacting much with Billy. He hadn’t exactly agonized over what he’d wear for the day, but he’d taken long enough that Steve couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t put any thought into it. Wearing a soft, dark green sweater and a nice pair of dark gray jeans comprised his look for the day, and it’s casual enough over the white polo beneath it that he can pass it off as a look for any other day, but Steve feels… confident. Ready to take on the day, even if Billy decides to ignore him.

Better than being tormented publicly, right?

Steve steps up to his locker, ready for just another day, maybe one where he and Billy don’t talk and Steve can relax a little. There’s no way Billy’s going to fuck with him at school after the last week and a half.

He spins the combination to his locker and opens it, searching for his history textbook in the stack. Sometimes, even with how small his locker truly is, he feels like he loses everything within it the moment he closes the door.

He’s so busy rummaging through his books that he doesn’t notice when someone leans on the locker next to his until they clear their throat.

“Morning, Harrington,” comes the voice he’s heard over his phone almost every night for the past week and a half.

Steve’s head snaps to the side, staring with his wide, dark-eyed gaze at the sight of Billy Hargrove, pressed and fresh and ready for the day with his long hair thrown up into a bun and curls spilling out of it. He’s wearing a white crew-neck sweatshirt with some logo on it - probably a name brand that popular people wear; Steve has no idea. He’s effortlessly beautiful, honestly, and Steve chokes a little trying to flap his mouth and move his vocal chords in the right way to form a reply while shoving that little phrase into the very back of his mind.

“Good… morning, Hargrove,” Steve forces out, clearing his throat and busying himself with his locker after. “You- uh. Did you finish all your work over winter break?”

Billy sucks his teeth and rubs at his chin as he stares at the side of Steve’s face, not answering quite yet. It’s just-- Billy mentioned on one of their calls that he’d been assigned a lot of homework for break, and Steve is just trying to talk to him, since Billy showed up and all.

Steve can’t look back over at him, can’t rise to the challenge, and doesn’t even know what the challenge is. Doesn’t know why Billy’s looking at him like that. It’s taking everything within his power not to blush at the heavy sensation of Billy’s eyes on him, the gaze only familiar in ways that make his skin prickle with nervous sweat, and Steve sends a little thank-you to the powers that be when he finally finds his history textbook and gets the distraction of sliding it into his backpack to take to class.

“Yeah, I finished everything,” Billy finally answers with a sigh, and when Steve glances back over, Billy’s looking out into the hallway where everyone is streaming down the hallways, giving them weird looks.

Steve catches Billy glaring at one of the guys from the soccer team. He can’t help but huff a little laugh.

“You don’t have to hang out with me at school, Bi- Hargrove,” Steve says quietly, eyes back inside his locker searching for his chemistry textbook. He slides his finger slowly down the spine of it, not quite ready to take it out. Not quite done with this conversation. “You’ve got, like, a reputation to uphold.”

“So what?” Billy barks out from beside him. Steve swivels his head again, feeling like some sort of automated puppet when he does it, to lock eyes with Billy. That blue gaze bores into Steve’s eyes, and with Billy this close, he can see that it’s more stormy-ocean-blue than the clear-skies blue that Nancy or even Max have. Steve thinks it’s… pretty. But he stuffs that thought down as soon as it pops up. Billy huffs back at him, and shakes his head, but the effect is lessened by the smile twinkling in his blue, blue eyes. “I can uphold my reputation and also spend time with you. You think I can’t kick someone’s ass for looking at me wrong?”

That startles a laugh from Steve.

“Fair enough,” Steve says, pulling out his chemistry textbook and stuffing that into his backpack as well. After shuffling things out of his bag, Steve finally zips it closed and shuts his locker. “Well, see you around.”

“Uh,” Billy stands up quickly, and Steve’s eyebrows raise up at the desperation on Billy’s face. “Let me walk you to class.”

Billy doesn’t ask, so it’s not exactly a question. Steve’s eyebrows furrow, a little divot appearing between them, as he takes in Billy’s face rather than just those (mesmerizing) eyes. Billy’s cheeks are starting to grow pink - warm to the touch, Steve tells himself, if he reached out to feel - and Billy ducks his head.

“But, you know. Like, only if you wanted me to, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shuts his locker as he fights back a smile. There’s a nervousness in Billy’s voice that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever really heard before. And there’s an excited nervousness within Steve, too. Suddenly, the drabness of the hallway in the morning brightens, just a little, to something warm. Warm like the hope blooming in his chest.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. He’s trying to affect disinterest, but he doesn’t know how well he’s doing when Billy doesn’t react much at all. He shouldn’t care at all, right? “I have algebra with Hampt.”

Then he turns and starts down the hall, Billy jogging briskly up to him and matching Steve’s longer-legged stride.

They don’t talk as Billy walks towards Mr. Hampt’s room. It’s strange, walking with Billy in the hallway. He makes for an unexpected presence, both intimidating and comforting, for whatever reason. They’re jostled together more than once by the encroaching bodies as students dart for their morning classes.

Billy’s elbow keeps bumping against his and-- it’s a little nice.

 _Okay_ , it’s really nice.

Steve gets to the classroom door and Billy grabs the edge of his sleeve. The cacophony of sound almost fades when Steve turns to look at him. Billy’s eyes are aimed at Steve’s chest, but when he looks down, there’s nothing there. That’s when he realizes that Billy’s eyes are leveled right where Steve’s Mark is.

He fights the urge to press a hand over it protectively as if to shield himself.

“Listen…” Billy bites his lip and curls his fingers into Steve’s sweater even tighter. But when Steve glances down at Billy’s hand, heart hammering in his chest, Billy’s hand drops away. “Wait for me at lunch, okay? My class is on the other side of the school so I might be a little late.”

Steve licks his lips, trying to weigh his answer. The halls surge with students, all chattering and laughing and whooping and hollering the way teenagers do, even as early as it is, while the clock ticks closer to the bell for first period. Honestly, Steve half expects Billy to forget about all of this by lunchtime. Surely Billy’s friends will distract him and coax him into sitting at his usual table. Steve gives Billy a small shrug. The more time they spend here, waiting together, the more eyes fall upon them, and it makes Steve want to duck into the classroom to hide.

“Hargrove! Where were you this morning?’” Tommy shouts from down the hall, and Steve feels himself crumple a little, like two syllables spilling from Tommy’s lips turn him into some paper bag beneath Tommy’s clumsy hands.

“Sure, whatever,” Steve nods, turning for the door. He couldn’t risk completely killing the hope in his chest by having to deal with Tommy’s jabs, too. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

~

When lunchtime comes around, Steve sits at his usual table. He doesn’t expect anything to be any different today than any other day, even with Billy’s words echoing in his head. _Wait for me at lunch, okay?_ Steve slumps into place across from Robin and Barb and lets his lunch bag flop onto the table carelessly.

Robin and Barb raise their eyebrows and look from his bag to his face almost in unison. It’s a little scary how in sync they can be with each other, but Steve also secretly loves it. He thinks sometimes that they should be Marked, too.

“You okay there, buddy?” Barb asks slowly, her eyes only growing wider when Steve then roughly opens his lunch bag.

“Fine,” comes Steve’s short reply.

Not fine at all, actually. Steve spent the last two periods hearing everyone talking around him about how Billy walked him to class. He heard half a dozen theories that Billy was trying to butter Steve up to really humiliate him in front of the entire school at prom. All the gossip grates on Steve’s already doubtful sensibilities. The hope that had bloomed in his chest so warm and so soft that morning can’t last against the awful onslaught of teenagers carelessly running their mouths.

He pulls his food out - leftovers from winter break - and debates on whether he should bother trying the student microwave again. Steve stares down at the plastic container forlornly. Lasagna is never as good cold as it is hot.

“Hey.”

Steve’s head snaps up to see Billy standing awkwardly behind him. Throat working around a swallow, Billy seems almost... nervous. Steve, on the other hand, is stunned beyond belief.

Billy _actually_ showed up.

“Take a seat, Hargrove,” Robin calls from across the bench. 

When Steve glared over at her, Robin shrugs and bulges her eyes, affecting an undeniable look reading, _‘What was I supposed to say?!’_ Which… is fair, honestly, seeing as Steve doesn’t want Billy to just… leave. He’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t going to show, and now that he had, Steve wasn’t sure whether to be happy or embarrassed. He wants Billy to make due on his resolution of giving them a chance, of making up for all the bad things he’s done to Steve.

It seems like Steve underestimated Billy’s perseverance.

Steve swallows thickly and shifts aside on the bench seat to give Billy room to sit. He glances over at Billy out of the corner of his eye, watching the blonde slide into the seat. He doesn’t know how to act around Billy. He’s never spent a lunch period with him at school. Steve is reminded doubly of his larger size, the way his stomach touches the table, the way his thighs flatten over the bench, the way his chin doubles when he eats. The way he _eats_.

Suddenly, Steve isn’t so hungry anymore.

He looks back down at the tupperware and traces his fingers around the lid.

“You need to microwave it?” Billy asks quietly from beside him, and when Steve looks over, he catches the guilty way Billy’s eyes keep glancing from the container to Steve’s face. Unable to force his vocal chords to work, Steve nods dumbly instead. Billy reaches out only to still his hand when Steve snatches the container away fearfully. The last time Billy touched a container like this, it was to humiliate him, but Steve just feels stupid when Billy continues, telling him, “I can take it down for you. Heat it up.”

Billy’s words are careful and quiet but also resigned in a way that makes Steve’s heart thump painfully in his chest.

Didn’t he say he’d give Billy a chance? And now, at the first sign of Billy trying to make it up to him, Steve had to react like a distrustful ass. Sure, he’s distrustful - hesitant to truly believe Billy’s sincerity - but Steve doesn’t need to be an ass about it.

Nonna raised him better than that.

“Okay,” Steve blurts out, shoving the container into Billy’s chest. “Two minutes. I usually just pull the lid off and tilt it to the side.”

Billy stares down at the container and takes it in his hands before he looks back up at Steve and gives him this warm smile that Steve’s never seen on his face. It makes him look softer. Endearing. Makes the bright blue of his eyes sparkle, and his mouth look sweet, and idly, Steve wonders what it would be like to kiss Billy.

He catches himself imagining how soft Billy’s lips would feel against his own, and then averts his eyes quickly.

Steve is not blushing. He’s not.

“Okay,” Billy says, reaching out with his free hand to touch Steve’s elbow. It reminds Steve of this morning when Billy grabbed the sleeve of his sweater to get his attention. The small touch is a reassuring weight, light but nonetheless present. Billy’s hand lingers there and a warmth that Steve can’t possibly attempt to ignore spreads through his chest when Billy squeezes gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve watches Billy leave, trying to figure out if he’d gone crazy and imagined the whole interaction, when Barb leans in from across the table.

“You’re blushing,” she comments in a stage whisper, and when Steve whips his head back to look at her, she’s smirking too. “Everything okay over there, lover boy?”

It dawns on him just then that Barb and Billy are probably going to get along like the peanut butter and jelly on her sandwich. Both of them are sassy and too smart for their own good, and both of them like to give Steve shit. He tries not to find the image of Barb and Billy commiserating as hilariously adorable as he does, but he mostly fails.

“I’m good,” Stve chokes out, and while Barb devolves into laughter, Robin reaches out to pat his hand encouragingly.

At least one of his friends cares about his impending mental breakdown.

Nancy slumps down on Steve’s other side, leaning forward to look at Billy’s things he’d left behind with a curious stare. “Am I missing something? Who else is sitting with us?”

“Billy’s eating with us today,” Barb chimes in from around her spoon, applesauce cup in her other hand. When Steve and Nancy both glare at her, for very different reasons, she pauses and swallows. “What?”

“Billy? Billy Hargrove?” Nancy deadpans slowly, blinking her wide blue eyes incredulously. Her eyes fix on Steve’s accustatorily when he happens to look over at her, and Nancy traps him in her gaze. In that moment, Steve finds out how a bug feels when it’s caught in a spider’s web. “What did you do, Steve?”

“Me?!” Steve shakes his head, dark eyes going wide as saucers. “I didn’t do anything. He wanted to sit here.”

Her eyes flick pointedly down to his chest where his Mark lays beneath his sweater and polo.

“Hey, now, you can’t blame my Mark on me,” Steve says, wagging his finger at her.

“Trouble in paradise already?” comes Billy’s drawling tone when he struts back over with Steve’s tupperware in hand. He plops it down in front of Steve, uncaring of the little splatter of sauce that sprayed out tiny droplets onto the table after the lid topples off.

Steve’s stunned enough that Billy came back with his food, that he actually did heat it up, so he doesn’t even comment on the mess; he just grabs the napkin from his lunch bag and wipes it up dutifully. He turns to Billy with a small, apologetic smile on his face, ready to properly thank him, but he’s interrupted by the little spitfire of a friend next to him.

“What game are you playing, Hargrove?” Nancy demands to know, bold as ever, as she leans forward to look around Steve.

“Basketball,” he jibes back dryly and narrows his gaze at her after he leans forward, too. “Why, Wheeler, you want to join the team?” Billy’s smile turns vicious when he leans in and glares at her. “I think we both know you’re a bit short for it.”

“So are you,” Nancy shoots back just as venomously. “And yet you keep going back.”

“Everyone knows I’m the best player on the team.” Billy rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his turkey-and-cheese.

Steve slowly reaches into his lunch bag for the fork Nonna packed him, trying not to draw attention nor ire from either of them while they’re determined to square off against each other. He pulls the container to his chest and starts to carefully cut himself a bite to eat of the lasagna. When his eyes flick up, he sees Barb looking absolutely delighted at the show in front of her and Robin’s wide-eyed stare probably mirrors his own.

She locks eyes with Steve and bites her lips from the inside in the way that Steve knows she’s trying not to smile or crack up, and whenever she does that, he does it too. He has to clear his throat against the urge, and as he does, he leans forward to cut off the intense glaring of which he’s somehow caught in the middle.

“Billy’s sitting with us today, yes,” Steve finally tells Nancy. When he looks over at her, the back of his head to Billy, he gives her his best puppy dog eyes and pleads the best he can without giving away anything in his voice. “So be nice to him, okay?”

“Nice to him?!” Nancy squeaks, but Steve turns up the pleading quality of his pouting face and not even Nancy can stand up to it. She just sighs, shoulders slumping down as the urge to fight leaves along with the need to sink her claws into someone who has been, before the soulmate revelation over break, absolutely awful to one of her best friends. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll do it _for you_ , Steve, but let the record show I’m not being nice because he deserves it.”

“Thanks, Nance,” Steve laughs, leaning over to knock their shoulders together playfully.

Steve turns back to Billy, still sitting there and not yet moving to eat his own brown-bagged lunch, and gives the blonde a small smile. “Think you can play nice for lunch?”

“Sure, whatever,” Billy replies sullenly and tears the bag in half, splaying it open to create a little placemat. There’s a sandwich and some chips and an apple, and some of the cookies Steve knows Nonna sent home with Billy, Max, and Susan. _Steve_ made those cookies.

He quietly takes another bite of his lasagna. There’s no reason for the smug, pleased warmth that’s bubbling up in his chest, so he chews and swallows quickly to try to quell it.

“So, Billy, how did you like Williams’s test before break?” Barb asks, finishing up her applesauce and moving on to her sandwich. Barb has the same routine of eating the same lunch every day. She’s predictable and a little bit of a bitch, and Steve loves her. “Was a total pain in the ass, am I right?”

“Damn right,” Billy says with a quirk of his scarred eyebrow. He reaches up and pulls the ponytail out of his hair to let his curls spill down over his shoulders. Steve looks back at his food, totally not looking. “Williams is a hardass, but at least she knows her shit.”

Nancy sighed beside Steve, and when the table looks over at her, she’s nodding ruefully.

“I never thought I’d say this, Hargrove, but you’re finally right about something,” Nancy states with a small but begrudging grin.

Steve knows that Ms. Williams teaches AP English Literature, which is one of Barb’s and Nancy’s hardest classes. Which means Billy’s like. Really smart. Way smarter than Steve, if he’s anywhere near Nancy and Barb. Which also means not only is Billy popular and athletic, but he’s also smart, and funny, and hot-- and Steve has to shake his head and take another bite, larger than the last, to occupy his mouth. Bill is _not_ hot. Well, okay, so he’s not _not_ hot. But Steve doesn’t want to admit to any level of attraction to Billy. It’s better for his mental stability that way, rather than hoping for something romantic to happen with someone so obviously out of his league.

“Doesn’t Williams… um. Doesn’t she advise for the- the GSA?” Billy asks hesitantly, and even Steve glances over because the tone of his voice goes a little strained. But Billy’s staring at his sandwich where he clutches it between his fingers, then stuffs the last half of it into his mouth.

“Yeah!” Robin perks up, a tiny smile curling the corners of her lips. Robin’s the president of the Gay Straight Alliance, and the role is mostly for college applications since there aren’t that many out queer students in Hawkins, but she’s also really protective of all the members, especially Timmy the freshman. Steve’s had to intervene in too many screaming matches she gets into with the close-minded jocks in their classes. “She’s really awesome, kind of quiet in the club, actually. We meet every Tuesday after school.”

“Then I drive her home,” Barb grins, poking her in the side. “Band practice gets out about the same time.”

Billy nods slowly, chewing and swallowing the last of the too-large mouthful, and wipes the crumbs off his face after he sets the other half down. “Yeah, that makes sense. I think basketball gets out a little after band because we still have to shower and change.”

Thinking of all the times Billy got out of practice and jeered and taunted Steve in the hallway, the time where he’d slapped at his Mark, Steve can only nod, too.

“Band’s why me and Barb don’t go to the weekday meetings,” Steve offers, if a little quietly, then finishes the last of his lasagna. He takes up the napkin and wipes his hands off before grabbing the extra napkin from his lunch bag and shoving it silently into Billy’s hands. “But we usually meet up on the weekend.”

“We have game nights,” Nancy says from Steve’s other side. She shrugs when Steve glances at her. He smiles because he can tell that she’s trying. For him. “My boyfriend was the vice-president last year and he still shows up when he’s not working.”

“Byers, right? I saw him at the party.” Billy nods and wipes his mouth with the napkin, then starts in on his chips. “Your boy is the brother of one of my brat-sister’s friends.”

“Yeah, Jonathan Byers. His brother is Will.”

“We’re having a game night this weekend,” Steve tells him, smoothing his clean hands over his jeans. If Billy’s trying, Steve should try too. He’s not so dumb that he doesn’t get the hint that Billy was dropping when he mentioned the GSA. “If you wanted to come to one of the meetings. See what they’re all about.”

Billy stops chewing loudly with his mouth open - it’s disgusting, watching him shovel chips into his mouth, but also so very Billy - before he closes his mouth with a snap and swallows thickly. “Uh. I don’t know if my dad would. Um. Go for that.”

“Maybe Nonna can call Miss Susan and talk to her?” Steve says, dropping his head to the side to try to catch Billy’s gaze. He smiles and nudges Billy’s arm with his elbow when he finally manages to lock his eyes with Billy’s ocean blue. Steve doesn’t know how he can measure up to anything Billy is, looking the way Billy does. Even his eyes stand out, exceptional compared to Steve’s boring brown. “I could drop Max off and pick you up. For like, ‘study group.’”

Billy blinks widely over at Steve, and Steve can tell that Billy hadn’t been expecting an offer like that to come from Steve’s mouth. Not after he swore up and down that Billy would have to work hard. This isn’t exactly a free pass, but it’s… it’s something.

“And that’s not entirely a lie, either. I always do some homework at the meeting,” Barb tells Billy, smiling. “I could help you with your next essay if you want.”

“Like I need the help,” Billy laughs. “Maybe if you can help me with history?”

“That’s Robin’s specialty,” Barb chuckles back, adjusting the glasses at the bridge of her nose. Steve’s never seen someone get Barb to talk so much without bearing the brunt of her scrutiny. “Little time wizard over here.”

“Time Lord,” Robin corrects her as she reaches over and snatches one of the candies in Barb’s lunch spread. Everyone laughs as Barb stares, mouth dropped open in surprise, while Robin just smiles and winks at her as she pops the candy into her mouth. “Besides. You only get away with doing homework during club business because you’re dating the president.”

“What’s the point of dating the president if I don’t get a few perks?” Barb shoots back, winking at Robin.

Billy busts into more laughter at that, and Barb breaks into a small giggle too, and just as Steve predicted, these two are already getting along. They’re both so good at teasing. At being sassy.

He foresees a lot of teasing in his own future. He catches Robin looking at him and she gives him a similarly distressed look.

“So what’ll it be, Hargrove?” Steve finally asks and knocks their elbows together gently once more.

“Have Nonna Luisa give Susan a call, then,” Billy concedes, and beneath the table, he knocks their knees together.

Steve doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me two months! Sorry for the wait but I hope this chapter made up for it.
> 
> You may have noticed that there’s an extra chapter added, and that’s because everything I had planned to have in this chapter would make it really long, so I had to move that to the next chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think in a comment! And feel free to come yell at me on Twitter or tumblr:
> 
> https://twitter.com/rvspberryjonas
> 
> http://rvspberryjvm.tumblr.com/


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